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THE ALUMNAE QUARTERLY 

FALL 1965 



VOL. 44, NO. 1 



CONTENTS 

2 The Arts in Atlanta and at Agnes Scott 

Richard H. Rich 

5 Art Criticism in One Lesson 

George Boas 

8 Alumnae Sponsors 1965-66 

9 A Native's Return 

Koenraad W. Swart 

13 Class News 

Margaret Dowe Cobb 

17 The Dana Fine Arts Building 

Special Report 

49 Worthy Notes 




COVERS 

Front Cover — A shot taken at night 
of the entrance to the new Dana i 
Fine Arts Building. 
Back Cover — A night shot of front 
of the same building. 



Ann Worthy Johnson '38, Editor 

Barbara Murlin Pendleton '40, Managing Editor 

John Stuart McKenzie, Design Consultant 



STATEMENT OF OWNERSHIP, MANAGEMENT AND CIRCULATION 

filed in accordance with Act of October 23, 1962; Section 4369, 
United States Code. The Agnes Scott Alumnae Quarterly is published 
quarterly by the Agnes Scott Alumnae Association and owned by 
Agnes Scott College, Decatur, Georgia 30030. Ann Worthy Johnson, 
editor. Circulation: 8,500 copies. 

MEMBER OF AMERICAN ALUMNI COUNCIL 

Published November, February, April and July for alumnae and friends 
of Agnes Scott College. Subscription price for others $2.00 per year. 
Entered as second class matter at the Post Office of Decatur, Georgia, 
under Act of August 24, 1912. 



PHOTO CREDITS 

Front and back covers, pp. 17-30, 
32, 42, Joseph W. Molitor. Pages 
6, 10 by Ed Bucher. Pages 8, 14,, 
39, 40, 41, 42, 49 by Ken Patterson. 
Page 35, Dwight Ross, Jr. Page 46, 
Nancy Gheesling Abel. Pages 31, 
36, Frank Dunham. 




This picture was made on Dr. McCain's 70th birthday in 1951, as he received a present from the College, a new car. 

tyAwbhmfas Jams KossJJkCm 

Dr. McCain died suddenly, of a heart attack, October 30, 
1965. He left instructions for a worship service of praise 
and thanksgiving to be held upon the occasion of his death, 
and this was done at Decatur Presbyterian Church on 
November J. The College had a memorial service for him 
on November 3, and the wondrous words spoken then 
about this truly great and splendid man will be published in 
the next issue of the Quarterly. 

LUMNAE QUARTERLY / FALL 1965 



07^9 



The Arts in Atlanta 
and at Agnes Scott 



By RICHARD H. RICH 



THE invitation to make this address was a recog- 
nition that the aesthetic climate of our lives is 
contained neither within cultural centers nor college 
campuses. It is a free-flowing influence that includes 
and benefits us all. 

You are here today as patrons, alumnae, trustees, 
professors, administrators, students of a college with 
extraordinary standards of excellence, and I am your 
neighbor who happens to be a businessman. But in the 
end we are all human beings who seek, create, impro- 
vise and reflect whatever is uplifting or degrading in 
our environment. To use a merchant's term, we are all 
suppliers and consumers. 

Dr. Dana, let me first express to you my own — and 
if I may, all of Atlanta's — deep appreciation to you for 
your magnificent gift to Agnes Scott College. We know 
that throughout your busy and successful industrial 
life, you have maintained a scholar's interest in edu- 
cation and that you and your family have been of un- 
told assistance to many educational institutions. 

In selecting Agnes Scott for a grant from the Charles 
A. Dana Foundation, we know you have chosen wisely. 
This is an institution which ranks among the topmost 
liberal arts colleges in the nation. The fine young 
women who study here will prove worthy of your 
consideration. We know. We have seen them as citi- 
zens, leaders, homemakers and friends. 

We reflect ourselves by our gifts. Through this hand- 



EDITOR'S NOTE: This in an address given by Mr. Richard H. 
Rich on October 13, 1965 at the dedication of the new Dana 
Fine Arts Building. Upon graduation from the Wharton School 
of Business of the University of Pennsylvania, Mr. Rich joined 
the firm of Rich's, Inc., an Atlanta department store, and be- 
came President in 1949 and Chairman of the Board in 1961. 
He has served on boards of other businesses in the area, and 
he has been President of the National Retail Merchants Asso- 
ciation. He has made significant contributions to civic and 
community affairs and now serves as Chairman of the Board 
of the Atlanta Arts Alliance, Inc. 



some new structure for the arts, we see Charles 
Dana in full portrait. 

Architect John Portman and his associates at E 
wards and Portman have designed an exciting buildin 
They have achieved a remarkable thing in placing til 
fresh, open, contemporary structure amidst a conserv. 
tive community of buildings and kept them all 
speaking terms. Indeed, they already seem to be o 
friends. The pierced brick screen with its gothic pa 
tern was an altogether new idea to me. I find the enti: 
building, its design, conception of use, arrangement 
space and appeal to the senses most interesting ar 
stimulating. It will prove to be timeless in its utili 
and beauty. 

Civilization owes so much to its architects, tho 
artists of shelter and space, who make of our necessi 
for order and shelter and convenience also so much 
inspiration and delight. 

I know that Dr. Alston and all of you are delights 
with this building. It is quickening just to walk throuj. 
it. I know it will be well used by the faculty at Agm 
Scott and well remembered by all of you students wh(; 
you have gone on to whatever life holds for you who 
you have been graduated. 

This building will help us to go beyond ourselves, 
wonder at the continuing intelligence that has product 
the world's masterpieces. It was left to St. Thom; 
Aquinas to observe that man's ability to marvel is h 
greatest gift. The ability to marvel is the dimension 
man which this landmark structure has been designs 
to celebrate. 

All doomcryers to the contrary, this is a rousii 
time to be alive. The great breakthroughs in all know 
edge seem properly to be accompanied by gre 
searches into the nature of mankind. It has now b' 
come a cliche to lament that with all our explosioi 
of science and technology, we have moved but litt 
closer to solving the problems of man. Let us lame 
that we have not gone further, but let us also adrr 



THE ACNES SCO 




of the Board of Rich's, Inc. 



Architect's drawing of Atlanta's proposed Cultural Center 



how far we have come. Let us take heart at where we 
are headed, the direction we are taking, and how far 
we have come on our journey. 

At this moment, the South seems to us who live 
here and sense its motion, a special and portentous 
place in this community of states. We have our prob- 
lems, but we are facing them. 

Atlanta, we are reassured often, leads the cities of 
the Southeast in its forward pace. In the beginning, 
this point had only one priceless asset — geography. 
Because of its location, Atlanta was an inevitable sur- 
veyor's check-point, an X marking the spot where 
trade and traffic were bound to converge. 

But it has always had far more than that great 
natural advantage. It has had people with energy and 
grasp beyond their own immediate reach. I am not 
going to give you a Chamber of Commerce talk, 
though the encouraging economics of Atlanta is a nor- 
mal thesis with me. I was simply leading up to a fact 
which is now becoming clearer to many, which only 
a few months ago they would have doubted. 

Atlanta's renowned business community is increas- 
ingly appreciating and supporting the arts. When in- 
dustrialists and business leaders started to understand 
that no city could attract growth without providing 
facilities for culture for the enterprising people who 
lead and spark them, they began seeing themselves in 
a new light. 

We who made our living and supported our families 
in this materialistic thing called private enterprise, 
needed the refreshment of the arts as much as any 
newcomer to Georgia. We needed music and drama, 
the fine arts and ballet, color and form and idea. 

As Chairman of the Board of the Atlanta Arts Al- 
liance, an amalgamation of the Atlanta Art Association 
and the Atlanta Symphony, I found myself last fall 
chairman of a drive to raise 4 million dollars to match 
a splendid keystone gift to build a proposed cultural 
center for our region. 



This was the largest such campaign ever undertaken 
in our city, and my colleagues, enlisted from banks, 
department stores, utilities, industries and businesses, 
waded into the fray determined to wrest success in 
spite of the persistent canard that businessmen may 
have 20-20 vision in the profit and loss columns, but 
are blind elsewhere; that they plod, not dance, on feet 
of clay, and that they turn off their tin ears and sleep 
through all symphonic concerts. 

Shortly, to our surprise, we discovered that gifts were 
coming in, and they were big ones. They were, in some 
cases, bigger than we had expected and believe me, we 
had worked out some two-fisted expectations! We dis- 
covered other men in this capitalistic world were willing 
to help with this chore. They swallowed the maligned 
word "culture" as if they had coined the idea. This 
was a capital drive and depended on strong gifts. Some 
of our big givers contributed more to the Cultural Cen- 
ter than they had ever given to anything before. 

Not quite all of the money has been pledged — we 
found it was necessary to raise our sights to $8,100,000 
— but ground will be broken soon at 15th and Peach- 
tree Streets. The Atlanta Memorial Cultural Center 
will be a monumental structure, a fine one, dignified 
and spacious with a soaring, colonnaded peristyle sur- 
rounded by beautifully landscaped grounds. It will be 
a memorial to the Atlanta people who were lost in an 
airplane crash in Paris in 1962. 

The importance of this Center will not be seen fully 
at its opening. We know that. It offers a broad canvas 
and there are many details to be painted in. It will 
take a generation before we can really appraise what 
a place for great music, the best we can acquire, pro- 
duce or exhibit in art, the finest dance and theatre will 
mean to those who live and grow in our community. 

We may produce noteworthy artists. We have already 
done so. Many of them have gone elsewhere to be rec- 
ognized. But if all we do is develop appreciators of 

(Continued on next page) 



M.UMNAE QUARTERLY / FALL 1%5 



"This building will help us to go beyond 
ourselves, to wonder at the continuing intelligence 
that has produced the world's master pieces." 

The Arts in Atlanta and at Agnes Scott (continued) 



the arts, we will have made a great contribution to the 
stature of our people. 

I feel with a great sense of humility, but, I hope with 
pardonable pride, that the institution which I represent 
has, over its 98 years of existence, helped to raise the 
standards of taste in our community. As Atlanta's pop- 
ulation has increased its material well-being and its 
educational resources, it has become increasingly aware 
of design and beauty in the material things it demands. 
No longer do the mere necessities of life comprise the 
major demand for goods. Durability and price are as- 
sumed, but people want more. They want design and 
beauty, and more and more things that bring color 
and inspiration into their lives. 

Some of you who are students now, probably more 
than I would guess, will end up as performing artists 
because of this new gift from Dr. Dana. You may sur- 
prise your parents by this decision. 

My family has experienced this too. Our second 
daughter puzzled and — I admit it — frustrated her 
mother and me by insisting on becoming a ballet 
dancer. We were, frankly, annoyed. At least I was. 
I had envisioned for her the best education she could 
absorb, and of course that meant an academic educa- 
tion with as much scholastic achievement as possible. 
But, little girls being what they are — irresistible forces 
— Ginny won. For years, she worked, practiced, studied 
and strained, and eventually she became what she had 
hoped to be, a professional ballet dancer with the great 
New York City Ballet Company. 

She now has a happy marriage and two children — 
and she is still dancing. Sometimes I think she gets 
better all the time. And you know, she has persuaded 
me. I'm very proud of what she has accomplished. To 
become as expressive as one can be, to use one's own 
capacities and talents, is a very fulfilling thing. It ap- 
parently lasts a lifetime. 



So some of you may astonish your parents by be 
coming actresses or writers or painters or molders c 
clay, and may you always be happy with your choice 
Some of you will become teachers of art. You will en<> 
up with every pupil in your schools passing throug 
your hands. Art will be a basic, like the three "r's 
have long been. For in this automated, push-butto 
world, we have already realized that every boy am 
girl who wishes to become a fully developed man o 
woman must reach out with his utmost effort for self 
expression and individuality. 

If it is true that education in the future may becorm 
primarily a matter of knowing how to "program" ai 
electronic brain to find the appropriate reservoir o 
information — how much more important it will becomi 
that each child's statement become his own, his majo 
or minor fingerprint of uniqueness. 

If catastrophe does not befall us — and I believe wt 
may just squeak by without another fall from grace— 
we may just now be on the rising curve of anothe 
Renaissance. For while this nation of ours may not bt 
old enough to have a previous flowering of the spirit 
the history of man is long and full of new beginnings 
The Renaissance Man was only our ancestor, in ; 
previous time and a previous place. 

For those of you who will be neither practitione 
nor teacher, but wives and homemakers and mothers 
there will be the most opportunity to help this Renais 
sance develop. It will be your instinct for grace, you: 
passion for beauty, your feeling for depth and height 
proportion and dimension that will do most to fulfil 
man's endless quest toward something bigger and bette: 
and more meaningful than himself. 

In dedicating this beautiful structure today, let u: 
dedicate ourselves to the eternal idea which it personi 
fies. Long may it stand. 



THE AGNES SCOT" 



Art Criticism in One Lesson 



By GEORGE BOAS 



A CRITIC is a man who makes judgments. 
Traditionally, what he judges is truth and 
i_ falsity, good and evil, beauty and ugli- 
less. He could of course make other judgments, 
oo. He could judge the efficiency of people and 
nachines, the probability of collecting damages 
m his car which was bumped into on the way 
o work (through no fault of his own, of 
:ourse), on the longevity of his rich grand- 
ather, and all that sort of thing. 

But such judgments require special training. I 
.m writing about something which requires only 
leep feeling and a sensitive soul. For the art 
ritic is dealing with what it is now fashionable 
o call The Values. This involves not only spot- 
ing what is before one, but also praising and 
•laming. And these activities are very dear to 
nankind. 

It's all very complicated. When we are called 
ipon to tell whether a picture is authentic or 
. fake, we want to sneer at the latter and gloat 
iver the former. A man feels ashamed when he 
5 listening to a piece by Chaminade and thinks 
t is by Mozart, and he feels elated when he 
tears a piece by Vivaldi and knows right off the 
iaton that it isn't by Bach. To be able to stroll 
hrough an art gallery and identify who painted 
v'hat is a great talent. Some men have devoted 
heir whole lives to this pursuit. They are said 
o have an eye — and to have an eye is very 
mportant. 



•BOUT THE AUTHOR: Dr. Boas is professor emeritus of phi- 
ssophy at the Johns Hopkins University, holds degrees from 
rovvn, Harvard, and California, and is now a visiting scholar 
Dr Phi Beta Kappa. He was on the Agnes Scott campus in 
)ctober and proved to be a witty, erudite lecturer and conver- 
ationalist. This delightful article is one of three he has written 
3r publication in alumni magazines. Copyright 1965 by Edi- 
Jrial Projects for Education, Inc. 



The funny thing is, critics want their readers 
to see with their eyes and not with the readers' 
own. They want other people to admire what 
they admire and dislike the things that they dis- 
like. Don't ask me why. Only a psychiatrist 
could tell why men want other men to agree 
with them. Few ever do. Maybe it is because 
we want to be frustrated, so as to have a chal- 
lenge that we can meet. And, if necessary, go 
down fighting. 

There are several ways of producing agree- 
ment in criticism. Let me show you a few. 

The beginner should remember that it is 
always easier to get others to dislike something 
than to get them to like it. Hence the would-be 
art critic should begin by pointing out the faults 
in a painting. You might imagine that you 
should know something about the technique of 
painting to do this effectively. Not at all. You 
simply have to know something about the hu- 
man race. Begin by making the painter, rather 
than the painting, your target. Here are some 
of the opening gambits: 

1 ) You attack the artist's sincerity. If you 
say in an innocent voice. "Do you suppose he's 
sincere?" or in a contemptuous one, "He's ob- 
viously pulling your leg," the person whom you 
are addressing is already half-convinced. For no 
one can be sincere if he is doing something you 
don't understand. If I don't understand what 
someone is telling me. it is because he is unin- 
teligible, not because I am ignorant. 

2 ) You attack the artist's sanity. A shrug of 
the shoulders will sometimes settle this, though 
usually it is more appropriate to adopt a pitying 
tone and say, "Too bad. When X saw his first 
Jackson Pollock, he went off the rails." I should 

(Continued on next page) 



LUMNAE QUARTERLY / FALL 1965 



Art Criticism in One Lesson 

(Continued) 



point out, however, that this can be dangerous, 
for ever since the first Sur-realist Manifesto, the 
suspicion has grown that maybe insanity is the 
most fertile mother of great art. 

3) You attack the artist's originality. Here 
you point out the resemblances in the picture 
before you to earlier pictures. In the long 
run this reduces to the charge of plagiarism, but 
you call it "influence." This, too, needs a warn- 
ing. If the man you are talking to — or for — 
knows the history of art, he may say that 
Raphael got an idea or two from Perugino, and 
Poussin from Raphael. Why waste a good idea? 
So if you follow this line, you had best tack the 
adjective "slavish" before the noun "imitation." 
Whereas imitation might turn into inspiration, 
slavish imitation could turn into nothing but 
empty-headedness. 

4) You attack the artist's integrity. Here you 
have only to say that the artist is out for money 
rather than for art — though there is also an art 
of making money by making pictures — and that 
he is simply producing what will sell. You drag 
in Esau and Jacob and speak dolefully of selling 
one's birthright for a mess of pottage. You then 
point out that the painting before you is not 
really a painting at all, but a lot of paint so 
arranged on a canvas to catch the eye of un- 
critical observers. 

These will do as the first steps in art criticism. 
They should be learned by heart, for they can 
also be used in praise of an artist. ... To call 
a man unoriginal is bad; to call him a follower 
of tradition is good. It's the overtones that count. 

To illustrate how a variety of critics can in- 
terpret a given painting in a variety of ways, I 
have chosen a work of art so well-known that 
it need not be reproduced. It is Washington 
Crossing the Delaware. It was painted about a 
hundred years ago and used to hang in the 
Metropolitan Museum of Art. 

In 1 876 a critic who had just been to the 




After his Honor's Day Address at Agnes Scott, Dr. Boas, 
talks to Dr. Boney, while Dr. Alston waits to speak to hi 



Centennial in Philadelphia saw this picture ar 
liked it. This is what he said: 

"The Metropolitan Museum of Art is to t 
congratulated upon its acquisition of this beaut 
ful tribute to the Father of Our Country. TI 
General and Statesman stand bravely at the bo' 
of his little craft as it cuts through the ice c 
the Delaware River, which threatens at an 
moment to crush his frail vessel. Our country 
flag is flying in the head-on winds which ad 
but another obstacle to the indomitable will c 
the Patriot. One feels before this canvas thiJ 
right is greater than might and that neither thli 
hostile forces of Nature nor those of Tyrann 
will be able to frustrate him." Etc., etc., etc. 

A few years later a second critic saw thi 
painting and was obviously displeased. Hi 
wrote: 

"It is indeed too bad that with the opportur 
ity which the Metropolitan Museum had to pui 
chase something carrying on the Great Trad 
tion of the Renaissance, it had to spend its fund 
on a melodramatic contrivance which doe 
honor neither to Art nor to Patriotism." H 
then pointed out that the boat is too small t 
hold its crew, that the flag is a clear anachron 
ism and was not given to Washington unti 
1783, and (worst of all) that the river wa 
painted while Leutze was in Dusseldorf an< 
used the Rhine for his model. "In short," hi 

THE ACNES SCOT 



concluded, "this painting is a travesty on his- 
tory, on nature, and on art." 

Toward the end of the century, a young man 
who was clearly annoyed by this sort of rhetoric 
wrote the following retort: 

"The carping critic may point out that the 
scene which Leutze painted is untrue to nature, 
but a picture is a work of art and not a mere 
photograph. This is a re-creation of the scene 
as it appeared to an artistic imagination ... If 
the flag is anachronistic, it must be remembered 
that a work of art is timeless and is not confined 
to facts and figures . . . etc., etc., etc." 

In 1912a visitor from Vienna's Kunsthistor- 
ischen Museum walked through the Metropoli- 
tan and, he says, stood spellbound before this 
painting. He had just been reading Freud's 
study of Leonardo, and what he saw on Leutze's 
canvas had never been seen there before. My 
translation of his words is of course faulty — 
what else could it be? — but I think it gives you 
the general drift of his remarks: 

"This painting is at once of art-historical and 
socio-psychological interest, for it illustrates so 
clearly the American love for fusing the real 
and the ideal, becoming and being (Geschehen 
and Wesen), the temporal and the eternal. 
Washington is that Father-Image which Ameri- 
cans, who as a people have no father, yearn for. 
The boat, there is no need to point out, is a 
symbol of the womb of Mother America, which 
is capacious enough, in spite of its size, to carry 
unborn milions in its folds . . . ." But I had best 
stop at this point. 

In 1930 a Marxist critic came face to face 
with Leutze's masterpiece. I shan't record all he 
wrote, for members of the House Un-American 
Activities Committee might think that I was 
teaching it. Let me say that any resemblance 
that it has to the truth is purely coincidental. 
The critic wrote: 

"It is indeed strange that, with millions selling 
apples on the streets of Manhattan, the Metro- 
politan Museum should have spent an enor- 
mous sum to purchase a painting which is a 
glorification of war and the military class. It is 



true that the money was spent 50 years ago, 
but one has only to think of what it would have 
brought in if invested at 6 percent compound 
interest and saved against this unhappy day . . . 
Will the time never come when the aspirations 
of the Masses will also be represented in mu- 
seums? The men who are responsible for the 
overproduction if not for the consumption of 
apples will one day . . ." 

By 1960 a new note was struck. A young 
critic who. it is reported, is to be the next 
director of the Museum of Modern Art, pub- 
lished this bit in Art Vistas: 

"As one looks at this canvas, one is impressed 
by the interplay of muted colors and challenging 
forms, a year-embracing canvas. Here is winter 
with its tempestuous winds, spring with its 
promise of hope, summer with warm reds and 
whites and blues, and autumn with its hints of 
approaching death. The sharp thrust of the 
triangular shapes into a cloud of nebulous grays 
beats against the drum-head of the taut sky 
and leads to the expectation that somewhere 
something portentous will emerge from the 
darkness . . . ." 

From these excerpts, you will see that if you 
don't like the picture in question but do like 
Washington, you say that it is an absurd carica- 
ture of a great man. If you like the picture and 
also like Washington, you say that it fortifies his 
greatness, symbolically or otherwise. If you dis- 
like Washington and like the picture, you point 
out that the artist has succeeded in emphasizing 
the proud coldness of our first President. 

There is a good bit that I've had to omit in 
this lesson — the question of who painted what, 
of earlier and later periods in an artist's work 
(excuse me, his oeuvre), of schools and in- 
fluences. But one can't do everything. This is 
enough for the time being. If you apply the prin- 
ciples suggested, the next time you go through 
a gallery with a friend, you will find that you 
have qualified as an expert. 

P.S. I forgot something. Washington Crossing 
the Delaware didn't get into the Metropolitan 
until the '90's. And it was a gift, not a purchase. 



ALUMNAE QUARTERLY / FALL 1965 



Mollie Merrick '57 (R), Assistant Dean 
of Students, invaluable in the Alum- 
nae Sponsor program, introduces Mary 
Dunn Evans '59 to her Freshman 
Sponsorees Diane Hale and Liz Mur- 
phy in Walters' Recreation Room. 





Alumnae Sponsors 

Meet Their Freshmen, Fall 1965 



Freshmen Sandra Early and Patsie May 
and their Alumna Sponsor Mary War- 
ren Read '29 scrutinize a map of the 
Atlanta area, with an eye for future 
outings at various places. 



Dorothy Quillian Reeves '49 talks with 
her Freshmen Sponsorees Anne Gil- 
bert and Tish Lowe. Dorothy's son, 
Quillian, is in on the plans-making 
session for visits with the Reeves. 




THE AGNES SCOr 



A Native's Return 



By KOENRAAD W. SWART 



M' 



AN is easily inclined to idealize the world 
of his childhood. It is therefore not sur- 
prising that bitter disillusionment often awaits 
him on his return to his native country. But 
such disappointment is not likely to be in store 
for those Europeans who having immigrated 
into the United States in the years immediately 
following the Second World War revisit the new 
Europe of today. They will rather be impressed 
by Europe's newly gained vitality so sharply 
contrasting with the many signs of decadence 
which the Old World displayed at the time of 
their departure. This was at least my own ex- 
perience when, last year, after a prolonged ab- 
sence I spent an academic leave on the Conti- 
nent. 

On revisiting Europe in 1 964 it was often hard 
to believe that this was the same part of the world 
that I had left fifteen years earlier. In 1949 Eu- 
rope was still exhausted from the effects of the 
last war. Although reconstruction with Ameri- 
can aid was under way, many cities were still 
in ruins and there was a scarcity of many basic 
necessities. Food continued to be rationed, poli- 
tical life had not yet refound its stability, and 
Communist parties were cashing in on general 
discontent. "What is Europe now?" Winston 



\BOUT THE AUTHOR: Dr. Swart, associate professor of history, 
spent an academic year's leave in his native Amsterdam and 
sther European cities doing research and writing a book publ- 
ished this year. This article, a cogent comment on European 
blinking about the U.S.A., contains ideas he used in a lecture 
■\e gave for alumnae last Alumnae Week End. 



Churchill had asked in 1947. "It is a rubble 
heap, a charnel house, a breeding ground of 
pestilence and hate." Some countries were still 
deeply involved in the painful liquidation of 
their colonial empires. The international situa- 
tion also looked dark. It was the height of the 
Cold War, the years of the Communist take- 
over in Czechoslovakia, the Berlin Blockade, 
the triumph of Red China and the beginning of 
the Korean War. In the threatening conflict be- 
tween the two new superpowers Western Eu- 
rope seemed the most likely first victim and felt 
powerless to avert this fate. Many Europeans 
were convinced that Europe was in a state of ir- 
remediable decadence, and pessimistic philoso- 
phies of life like existentialism found a wide 
acceptance among European intellectuals. A 
large part of the younger generation was con- 
vinced that Europe had no longer a future and 
was eager to leave the Old World to build up a 
new existence elsewhere. This gloomy mood 
was not something entirely new — it was antici- 
pated by many nineteenth-century intellectuals 
as I have tried to demonstrate in a recently 
published book — but it reached its greatest in- 
tensity in the years immediately following the 
Second World War. 

Fifteen years later Europe's economy had not 
only recovered from the last war, but was more 
prosperous than it had ever been. Western Eu- 
rope is not suffering from unemployment, but 
from a shortage of labor which has led to the 
import of workers from southern and eastern 

(Continued on next page) 



ALUMNAE QUARTERLY / FALL 1965 



"Another area in which 
more and more Europeans j 
have become aware of 
their superiority to the 
United States is 
education'' 




Dr. Swart checks references on his recent book, Sense of Decadence in 19th Century 



A Native's Return (Continued) 



Europe. The rate of economic growth is higher 
than in the United States and people supposedly 
have never had it so good. Communism is on 
the wane and no one is anymore concerned 
about the loss of colonial possessions which now 
seems a blessing in disguise. I was, of course, 
not fully unprepared for the miraculous revival 
I noticed everywhere. Yet although anticipating 
the improvement in economic and political con- 
ditions, it was not until I was on the spot that 
I fully realized how radically this transforma- 
tion had altered the outlook of the average 
European, and became impressed by the new 
vitality of Europe. In speaking of Europe I have 
in mind not the entire Continent, but primarily 
its most highly developed part in northwestern 
Europe. Although my observations were largely 
limited to France and Holland, conditions 
seem to be basically the same in Belgium, Scan- 
dinavia, West Germany, Switzerland and North- 
ern Italy. In all these countries the standard of 
living is rapidly approaching the American 
level. Western Europe, as some people com- 
plain, is being Americanized. Cars, for exam- 



ple, are no longer a luxury of the upper ten 
Their increasing number is creating problem: 
thus far unknown to the Old World. They an 
obstructing the narrow streets of cities like Am 
sterdam, where even the recently installed park 
ing meters are unable to relieve the new con 
gestion of traffic. 

Numerous other instances of the introduc 
tion of American habits could be cited. In man) 
European cities there are nowadays supermar- 
kets selling an even greater variety of articles 
than their American counterparts. The posses- 
sion of household appliances is no longer the 
monopoly of the rich and it is especially among 
the lower and lower-middle classes that tele- 
vision sets have become a common source ol 
entertainment and education. Clearly the entire 
population is sharing in the newly gained pros- 
perity, and the old class distinctions have lost 
much of their sharpness. Wages have reached an 
all-time high and domestic help, so lamented 
my European friends, is hardly obtainable. The 
working class now enjoy many advantages for 
merly available only to the privileged few, such 



THE AGNES SCOTT 



is travelling to foreign countries as Spain and 
taly or even sending their children to institu- 
ions of higher learning. 

Much of the credit for this European miracle, 
is is known, should be given to the United 
itates. which so generously and imaginatively 
;ave of its money, and technical know-how, and 
vhich also provided the military might deterring 
lussian expansion into Western Europe. Yet 
10 amount of American aid would have been 
ible to bring about the resurgence of Europe if 
Vestern Europe itself had not brought up the 
■nergy, insight and daring to deal realistically 
vith the problems of the modern world. The 
European success story is, moreover, much 
nore than a mere imitation of the American 
>attern. In many fields Europe has made greater 
trides toward the realization of the so-called 
Great Society" than any other part of the 
vorld, including the United States. It hardly 
mows any longer of the serious social and poli- 
ical problems which are still awaiting their 
olutions elsewhere. Even in solving the hous- 
ng problem, the most serious of all European 
troblems, most Western European countries 
ompare favorably to the United States. "We 
re twenty years ahead of you," the chief of the 
)utch housing agency proudly remarked to me. 
In the U. S. 25% of all housing consists of 
lums, in Holland only 10%." The superiority 
>f Western Europe is even less contested in the 
.eld of social welfare and security, such as in 
iroviding adequate care for the mentally re- 
arded and insane, for the aged and the sick. 
t does not know, of course, any racial tension 
nd looks with a mixture of pity and condescen- 
ion on the prejudices that stand in the way of 
chieving racial justice in the United States. No 
iving American has made such a profound im- 
iression on the European mind during the past 
ear as Martin Luther King. Even prior to 
he award of the Nobel Peace Prize, he had be- 
ome to many Europeans the symbol of the 
egro's valiant struggle for freedom and equal- 
:y. In Holland, for example, his books as well 
s records of his television speeches were widely 



sold and a special golden coin bearing King's 
image was issued for collector purposes. 

Another area in which more and more Euro- 
peans have become fully aware of their superi- 
ority to the United States is education. This is 
not so much the case of higher education in 
which American methods such as the more inti- 
mate contact between student and teacher, and 
the teacher's close supervision of the student's 
work are increasingly adopted; some of my col- 
leagues also prescribed American textbooks 
even in the field of European history. I may add 
that all European professors hope that one day 
they will also enjoy the benefit of a leave of ab- 
sence during which they can gather new inspira- 
tion for the task that is awaiting them after their 
return to their institution. In elementary and 
secondary education, on the other hand, it is 
felt that Europe is much more successful than 
the United States in teaching the entire popula- 
tion the skills required for economic survival in 
a technological society. It does not know the 
alarming problem of a high drop-out rate in 
secondary schools, one of the factors conducive 
to juvenile delinquency and unemployment in 
this country. Nor does there exist any serious 
problem of organized crime and the resulting 
unsafety of walking in cities at night time. Liv- 
ing in the small European countries often leaves 
one with the impression that Utopia has be- 
come a reality. There are at least no longer any 
serious political issues dividing the population. 
People's dissatisfactions and aspirations have 
become very limited and for this reason local 
news in the papers makes for very dull reading. 

The success of Western Europe in simultane- 
ously achieving a high degree of economic 
prosperity and social justice is all the more re- 
markable since in contrast to what has hap- 
pened in Communist countries it has been re- 
alized without resorting to coercion and revolu- 
tionary methods. The rise of the working classes 
has not left any bitter resentment among the 
members of the old privileged class and has 
therefore not resulted in creating new problems 

(Continued on next page) 



LUMNAE QUARTERLY / FALL 1965 



A Native's Return (continued) 

instead of old ones. The traditional values of 
the Old World have not been repudiated, but 
have been adapted to the needs of a modern 
technological, democratic society. In the art 
of leisurely living and in cultural refinement 
Western Europe's leadership is still unchal- 
lenged. A happy balance between the old and 
the new has been realized. Europe has shown the 
world that it is possible to organize its economy 
and provide social security without impinging 
on the basic freedoms of the individual, which 
are as securely safeguarded in Europe as any- 
where else. As a result the old controversies on 
the relative merits of capitalism and socialism 
have lost almost all their relevance. Mankind 
has often been told that it had to choose be- 
tween organization and freedom. Western Eu- 
rope has shown that is possible to have the one 
as well as the other. 

The impressive record of Western Europe 
has all but dispelled the gloomy mood that was 
so prevalent fifteen years ago. A legitimate pride 
in the post-war achievements is accompanied by 
a strong confidence in the future role of Europe 
in world affairs. This change is perhaps most 
conspicuous in France that fifteen years ago was 
suffering from political strife. Communist riots, 
economic stagnation, and colonial wars. Europe 
no longer feels dwarfed compared to either the 
United States or the Soviet Union. Numerous 
persons expressed to me their misgivings about 
certain aspects of American politics and society. 
This criticism pertained not only to American 
racialism, but also to the political maturity of 
the American people, such as their often sim- 
plistic interpretation of world affairs and their 
belief that America has the monopoly of the 
solution of mankind's problems. These views 
were not inspired by any vulgar anti-Ameri- 
canism as was current immediately after the 
war and that was little more than a rationaliza- 
tion of weakness and jealousy. They were, 
rather, expressed by well-informed persons 
holding positions of responsibility, who were 

12 



still in favor of a close cooperation with th 
United States but were irritated by the Amer 
can assumption that their country was all-knov 
ing and all-powerful. 

The new self-confidence gained by Wester 
Europe largely explains the present strain i 
American-European relations. This feelin 
should not lead us to despair of the future c 
the Atlantic Community, a venture which r( 
mains one of the best chances for realizing 
better world. America and Western Europi 
despite all their differences, have still more i 
common with one another than with othe 
countries of the world. The differences hav 
often been exaggerated in the past and the 
seem less significant nowadays than ever be 
fore. But the continued success of the clos 
association between these two most highly de 
veloped parts of the world might well depend o 
a greater American willingness to recognize th 
merits of Western European civilization. Thi 
should not mean the end of American attempt 
to influence Western Europe. There are sti| 
many fields in which the United States has muc 
to offer: technical and scientific knowledge; th 
modernization of universities; and even mor 
important, in a more generous and responsibl 
attitude toward the underdeveloped countrie 
of the world. Western Europe, moreover, in spitl 
of its increasing self-confidence, is not in a moon 
or in the position to turn its back on America; 
The unprecedented outpouring of grief follow 
ing the assassination of John F. Kennedy- 
expressing itself among other things in the nami 
ing of streets in many cities after the American 
president — is a clear indication how much th! 
United States still means to the average Euro 
pean. But America, on the other hand, should 
be more aware of its weaknesses and realizi 
that it has often failed where Europe has sue 
ceeded. The Atlantic Association, in order to bj 
fruitful, should not be dominated, as has oftei 
been the case in the years following the end o 
the Second World War, by the idea of Ameri 
can mission and leadership, but by the idea o 
a partnership of equals. 



THE ACNES SCOT 



5 



t 



16 



DEATHS 

President Emeritus James Ross McCain, October 30, 1965 (see frontispiece). 



Faculty 



Mr. Robert B. Holt, Professor Emeritus of Chem- 
istry, July 16, 1965. 

Institute 

Stella Austin Stannard (Mrs. M. L.), March, 1965. 



Academy 



Fred Hill Henderson, husband of Ruth Home 
Henderson, October 25, 1964. 

1909 

Margaret Montgomery Montague (Mrs. Henry S.), 
August, 1965. 

Mamie McGaughey Hollis (Mrs. Victor R.), sister 
of lanie McGaughey '13, May 15, 1965. 

1910 

Caroline Caldwell lordan (Mrs.), May 11, 1965. 

1911 

Martha Darby Marks and her husband, George W. 
Marks, in an automobile accident, December 9, 
1964. 

1914 

Lois Gertrude Maddox, August, 1965. 

1917 

Irene Havis Baggett (Mrs. L. G.), April 28, 1965. 



1922 

Virgil L. Bryant, Sr., husband of Ruth Hall Bryant, 
August 15, 1965. 

Toulman Hurt, husband of Irene Hart Hurt, July 
9, 1965. 



1924 

Frances Woolley Farmer, May 29, 1965. 

1929 

Raymond A. Hogan, husband of Berdie Ferguson 
Hogan, May 12, 1964. 

1930 

Anna Katherine Golucke Conyers (Mrs. Christo- 
pher), June 21, 1965. 



1931 

Fred Lowe, son of Helen Manry Lowe, May 10, 
1965. 



1933 

Eugenia Norris Hughes (Mrs. Robert S.), Se 

ber 23, 1965. 

1938 

James A. Lasseter, husband of Eleanor Whit! 
Lasseter, August 17, 1965. 

1939 

D. VV. Hollingsworth, father of Mary Hollin 
worth Hatfield, grandfather of Bet:y Hatfiek 
Baddley '67, member of Agnes Scott's Boarc 
Trustees, May 22, 1965. 

1940 

Mrs. Robert M. Stimson, mother of Harriett 
Stimson Davis, spring, 1965. 

1943 

James L. Martin, husband of Hester Chafin / 
tin and son of Jessie Mae Long Martin, Aca< 
August 13, 1965. 

1944 

Dr. B. L Bowman, father of Betty Bowman 
October 27, 1964. 

1948 

John McManmon, father of Patricia McManr 
Ott, August, 1965. 

Guy W. Rutland, father of Tissie Rutland Sa 
June 18, 1965. 

1950 

Mrs. C. C. Foster, mother of Clare Foster tv 
December, 1964. 

1951 

Mrs. C. D. Munger, mother of Carol Munge 
October 19, 1964. 

1957 

Mr. I. D. Hodgens, father of Jean Hodgens Le 
March 2, 1965. 

Mrs. L. T. Price, mother of Jean Price Knap[ 
April 10, 1965. 

1961 

Mr. A. J. Jarrell, father of Jo Jarrell ' 
March 1965. 

1962 

B. F. Harris, Mary Agnes "Cissie" Harris An 
son's lather, May 13, 1965. 

1964 

Laura Hawes, June 18, 1965. 



Correction: The death of Katherine Reid, sister of Ethel Reid '08 and Grace Reid '15 was publisl 
the summer, 1965 issue of "The Quarterly" under an incorrect class heading. Katherine was a m 
of the Institute. 



It, 






/ 



QM/Yvi 






iv ni 



o 



Dr. Dana's generosity helped give Agnes Scott a building which, ill 
architect's words, "is basically a cathedral to art." 




CHARLES A. DANA, PHILANTHROPIST 




R. CHARLES ANDERSON DANA was born 
in New York City on April 25, 1881. The 
son of a leading banker, he received his 
bachelor of arts degree from Columbia Uni- 
versity in 1902 and in 1904 was granted the 
M.A. degree by the same institution. In 1958 
his alma mater awarded him the honorary degree of 
doctor of laws. 

Dr. Dana is married to the former Miss Eleanor 
Naylor of Sherman, Texas. He also is the father of four 
children — two sons and two daughters. 

He began his career as a lawyer and served three 
terms as a member of the state legislature of New York. 
He subsequently entered the business world through 
supervising a complete reorganization of the Spicer 
Manufacturing Company which in 1946 was re-named 
the Dana Corporation — one of the nation's leading 
manufacturers of automobile spare parts. He currently 
is chairman of the Board of Directors of this corpora- 
tion. Dr. Dana is active in other business enterprises 



also, serving as president and trustee of the Coralitj 
Company and as a director of the Manufacturers Tn 
Company of New York City, the Kelsey Hayes Company 
and the Curtiss-Wright Corporation. 

Dr. Dana has for many years been keenly interest*: 
in education and has devoted time, energy, and r 
sources to its improvement and strengthening. To fi 
ther this interest he established the Charles A. Dai; 
Foundation, Inc., a philanthropic agency which has bee 
and continues to be of untold assistance to many edi 
cational institutions, particularly throughout the easte 
part of the United States. Through gifts for endowmer 
for scholarship funds, and for buildings and equipmer 
Dr. Dana has seen his educational interest become 1 
real factor in the lives of young people. The Charles 
Dana Fine Arts Building at Agnes Scott, made possibl 
by the generosity of the Charles A. Dana Foundation 
Inc., is an excellent example of Dr. Dana's active co 
cern for and faith in the next generation. 





- ft 'i ' ii ittr ■"■" 



THE ARCHITECT'S CONCEPT 




O PROVIDE a building of contemporary design to house the varied needs 
of the departments of art and of speech and drama at Agnes Scott and 
to have this contemporary building blend comfortably with its pre- 
dominantly Gothic neighbors was the problem given us to solve in the 
Charles A. Dana Fine Arts Building. The functional requirements of the 
building called for painting, sculpture and ceramics studios, a small theater 
for the performing arts — primarily drama — and accompanying galleries, 
classrooms and offices. In addition, it was our conviction that since a fine arts 
building is dedicated by its very nature to the world of creativity, the teaching 
environment should provide an inspirational atmosphere for the students. 

Our basic philosophy in design revolves around taking a set of conditions 
and evolving an individual solution that is true to those conditions in a natural 
and uninhibited way — taking the human being and his natural reaction to 
space and space psychology to create stimulating, exhilarating buildings, 
functioning through the use of modulated space. The Dana Building brings 
back into architecture the grand, luxurious use of space — 



»Vjffct-. ft! 



£. *l . -sr.fc- 



The Dana Building is a study in the relationship of space within space. The 
concrete folded plate roof over the studios evokes in a thoroughly modern 
manner the spirit of other gabled roofs on campus. The building is basically 
a cathedral to art, and the grand Gothic space, which is authentically but- 
tressed, contains the floating platforms or studios with the gabled roof opened 
to the north for light. The platforms have further been perforated to reveal 
space flow and interrelated space relationships. The columns on the exterior 
are expressed to reveal the buttressing of the grand space. They are working 
as true buttresses. 

The exterior courts have many varied uses: they provide work areas off the 
sculpture and ceramics studios on the lower level, space for sculpture dis- 
plays and drama activities on the upper level, along with rest and relaxation 
areas. 

To paraphrase Gertrude Stein, "a wall is a wall is a wall," and the juxta- 
position of the exterior screen wall of Dana with the glass and concrete wall 
inside the courtyard sets up the counterpoint which makes the building still 
a part of the campus and yet a distinct entity unto itself. The arched, corbeled, 
pierced brick wall relates in a contemporary manner to the style and texture 
of older buildings on the campus. Its laciness allows the visitor, as he ap- 
proaches the building, gradually to become aware of the excitement that 
lies beyond. 

Another distinctly new facility of the building is the theater which manages 
to combine many of the new ideas in theater design with a spirit and feeling 
of the Elizabethan theater. Designed to be used for new experimental tech- 
niques as well as conventional productions, the stage breaks into the seating 
area to provide a rare intimacy between audience and actors. 

We believe the Charles A. Dana Building is a functional building adaptable 
to the change and growth that lie ahead. We are very pleased that the build- 
ing has a quiet repose in its surroundings and solves the problem without 
compromising its own integrity. It has been evolved naturally from its con- 
ditions and speaks for itself. 



JOHN PORTMAN / EDWARDS & PORTMAN, A. I. A. 



?* #> * 




The building fronts a small quadrangle bounded on the left by Campbell Science Hall. 




A rear view shows the great corbeled brick 
wall and exits leading to Dougherty Street. 



DOUGHERTY STREET 




CAMPBELL SCIENCE HALL 



The architect's site plan and a front view (below) show the building's location. 




The architect says: "The Dana Building is a 
study in the relationship of space within space." 
This drawing shows the four levels with which 
he worked in the building and the use of the 
two-level court. 





~"'tin! 



i». 






1 1 ir 



I 



RSmSG f^f 



rn 



jf f. ,| + jjii^iap 




Free-standing balconies compose the second 
and third floors adjacent to the theater area. 
Art studios, classrooms, conference rooms, a 
wardrobe room are some of the areas located 
on the second floor. 



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■ '**^*' "JJ*^ •^' **32 



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The teaching areas are separated, but the public 
areas in the building flow together, as this plan 
of the first floor demonstrates. Galleries, lounges, 
the theater entrance, faculty offices, exhibit 
spaces are on the first or main floor. 



A cantilevered ramp leads from the ceramics 
area at ground level out to a sculpture court. 




CREATIVE AND PERFORMING ARTS 




HE CHARLES A. DANA Fine Arts Building has 1 
planned to house the teaching programs of I 
departments of art and of speech and drama 
well as the public functions connected with the 
two departments. In the building the teaching 
tivities of the two departments are separated, but t 
public areas flow together. 

The main entrance to the building is through 
arched gateway in the pierced brick wall into a la 
courtyard on two levels. The upper level will serve 
exhibit sculpture and also as an outdoor theater. At 
west end is a small open air stage, which may be lighti 
from the buttresses overhead. The lower court to t 
east is reached by a long ramp and provides a worki. 
area for students in sculpture and ceramics. 

The front of the building proper consists of panels 
glass and concrete set between the columns supporti 
the gabled roof. The entrance opens onto a long cor 



Gates open from one gallery to another. 








The entrance leads into a gallery lounge fur- 
nished with handsome Barcelona chairs. It 
opens on three sides to other galleries. 



:ademic communion 



From the lounge (above) one walks by the 
circular staircase into a smaller lounge and 
browsing area. 



which is in turn open to the vaulted peaks of the 
les. 

jst beyond are the Dalton Galleries. In the center is 

istefully furnished gallery lounge defined at the far 

by a circular staircase set in a pierced cylinder. To 

east is a special exhibit gallery with handsome slid- 

gates which may be locked. To the west are two 

ill square galleries, one open to the sky light, and a 

g main gallery, which leads to a striking red-carpeted 

:n stairway and to the theater. To the south beyond 

circular stairs is a smaller lounge and browsing area, 

i comfortable chairs and bookshelves, and there is 

tchenette nearby. Adjacent to the entry is the theater 

office. 

he theater itself is an intimate octagonal chamber 
ting 212 on the main floor and 100 in the balcony. 
• seats are a brilliant red in color and are arranged 
:ontinental style. The theater, designed by James Hull 






A restful gallery is bounded by stairs leading to the theater. 
This gallery forms one of the major exhibit areas. 



A ceramics exhibit area is on a first-floor hall. 



Miller, features an open stage extending into the char 
ber and flanked by two-level towers. Lighting and soui 
equipment is modern and elaborate. It is control 
from a booth mounted high in the rear of the chamb 
over the balcony. 

Just off stage on the south is a large, fully-equippi 
stagecraft workshop. Beneath it, served by an elevate! 
is a storage area for sets and properties. Adjacent 
the theater on the north are two spacious dressii 
rooms and a clubroom for the Blackfriars drama grou 

Offices for the department of speech and drama ar 
one classroom are located on the first floor. On tl 




>nd floor flanking the theater are three more class-, 
ns, two conference rooms, a wardrobe room, and 
ume storage rooms. 

le east end of the main floor features an art history 
jre room, seating 80 and equipped for remote con- 
projection of slides and movies. Surrounding this 
the slide room, a dark-room, a small seminar room, 
offices for the department of art. 
ie studios for classes in design, drawing, and paint- 
are located on the two free-standing balconies 
:h are the second and third floors in the building. 
/ are essentially uninterrupted spaces lit by natural 



A splendid free-standing, circular staircase, 
carpeted in a brilliant red color, reaches 
from the first to the third floors. 



An open stairway, running through 
three levels, leads off the main gallery 
to the theater area. 




sweep of the two painting levels gives flexibility 
Ing studio classes. 



The relationship of three levels, an outer sculpture 
court, and the pierced brick wall makes a whole- 
ness of design. 





Windows in the gabled roof open to the north for the light 
so necessary to painters. 



th light from the glass walls and gables. Using mov- 
i free-standing partitions, they are divided to form 
;parate working unit for each class. Sinks, counters, 

cabinets for storing the materials for each student 
provided. On the second-floor balcony and adjoin- 

it, there are ample storage spaces and a seminar 
m equipped for projection of slides. 
he east end of the ground floor of the building is 
igned for instruction in ceramics and sculpture. 
re are two L-shaped studios opening onto the lower 
rtyard. Between them is a small seminar room, and 
fining them are the mixing room, damp room, spray 





The open-stage theater, designed by- 
Hull Miller, combines contemporary id 
theater design with a spirit and feeling 
Elizabethan theater. 




Lighting from roof windows falls three levels into a galler 



room, and kiln room, as well as offices and stor; 
spaces. 

The colors in the building are neutral for the m! 
part, but there are striking accents of red and blue! 
corridors. The furnishings are contemporary in officj 
classrooms, and the public areas. The building is 
conditioned throughout. 

Architects for the building were Edwards and Portrrr 
of Atlanta. The builder was the J. A. Jones Constru 
tion Company. Landscaping was designed by Edw* 
Daugherty. 




This seminar room is typical of several in the building. 



Each faculty member has an office similar to this one. 




A control-panel bird's-eye view shows the 
open stage projecting into the audience area. 




A sculpture court just inside the outer wall is beautifully landscaped. 



IL tlGS 





• • 



Some Nice Things Have Come Between Us 



eople, I am well aware, are not things, and I have no 
'ish to get into a Martin Buber "I-Thou, I-It" theological 
eatise, Let's just say I got carried away with this heading 
or the words I want to say about wondrous human beings 
nd inanimate objects which, this fall, have come to stand 
turdily on campus between me, as director of alumnae 
ffairs, and you, as alumnae. 

As I write at my desk in the Alumnae Office, I have a 
^arm, pleasant feeling that anything can be accomplished 
his day because of the new alumnae staff members sur- 
ounding me. These three people are all alumnae — and 
that's really enough goodness said about them! They are 
3arbara Murlin Pendleton (Mrs. E. Banks) '40, assistant 
lirector of alumnae affairs; Pattie Patterson Johnson 
Mrs. Hal) '41, secretary in the alumnae office, and 
vlargaret Dowe Cobb (Mrs.) ex-'22, alumnae house man- 
ner. They join me in the hope that once the four of us 
;ut some paths through the labyrinth of details which 
-nake up alumnae affairs, we can learn to serve you not just 
idequately but superbly. 

New faculty members have also come between us this 
fall. One of my continuing concerns is how to help alumnae 
know these excellent persons. The exigencies of space on 
a printed page prohibit me from telling you about all of 
them, so I have quite arbitrarily chosen one. 

She is Mrs. Aley Thomas Philip, visiting scholar in 
political science. Mrs. Philip is lecturer in politics at Uni- 
versity College for Women, Hyderabad, India, and comes 
to Agnes Scott on the U. S.-India Women's College 
Exchange Program in which thirteen American women's 
colleges are participating under a joint grant from the 
U. S. Department of State and the Danforth Foundation. 
Mrs. Philip is walking about a fifth extra mile on this 
campus and in the Atlanta community. One of these miles 
is her participation in the fall series of the Continuing 
Education Program for alumnae, in a course she calls, 
"Modern India" — an area in which I. as one alumna, am 
woefully ignorant and do rejoice in being enlightened by a 
person as competent and charming as Aley Philip. 

The most delightfully fresh people this fall are, of 
course, members of the Class of 1969. They compose the 
largest entering class in the College's history, 236 strong. 



(Total enrollment is 748, also a record.) Our first Negro 
student is a freshman, and she and others in the class come 
from schools in twenty-two states, the District of Columbia, 
and two foreign countries, France and Guatamala. Seven- 
teen are daughters of alumnae (see p. 14.) 

To make the transition from people to things, allow me 
to telescope into a few words the many I could say about 
the new Charles A. Dana Fine Arts Building because it 
involves both people and things. (See the special report, 
pp. 16-32, and Mr. Rich's article, p 2.) We shall be cele- 
brating its presence on campus in many ways for months 
to come, and I'll discuss a few ways that have already 

occurred. 

We had a five-day theater workshop in early October, 
led by James Hull Miller, nationally known theater design 
consultant who planned the open-stage theater in the Dana 
Building — "a fresh and unconventional approach to the 
playing area as dramatic environment for dynamic com- 
munication." Blackfriars celebrates its 50th anniversary 
anniversary this year, and what could be more fitting 
than having a stage of their own for the first time. May 
there be many happy returns for the drama group. 

We held a service of dedication for the building at a 
Convocation on October 13. at which Mr. Dana, members 
of the Dana Foundation Board of Trustees, the College's 
Board of Trustees, the Executive Board of the Alumnae 
Association, the architects and construction firm repre- 
sentatives were present. 

And we opened the Dalton Galleries, with great eclat 
and flair, on October 24. Harry L. Dalton and his wife, 
Mary Keesler Dalton '25, who gave the magnificent paint- 
ings making up our permanent Dalton collection, were 
here, and over 500 visitors came from the Atlanta area. 

A majestic wood carving stands in one of the Dana 
galleries. Called "The Falling Icarus" it was created by 
Otto Flath of Hamburg, Germany, in memory of those who 
lost their lives in the Paris plane crash of June, 1962, 
among whom were twelve Agnes Scott alumnae. On 
November 19 we dedicated the carving in a brief ceremony. 



107699 



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Tribute to Dr. McCain . see page 2 



WINTER 1966 




President Emeritus James Ross McCain 
1881-1965 




THE ALUMNAE QUARTERLY 

WINTER 1966 



VOL. 44 NO. 2 



CONTENTS 



1 Memorial Service to James Ross McCain: Prayer 

C. Benton Kline, Jr. 

2 James Ross McCain: A Genuinely Dedicated 
Christian Gentleman 

Wallace McPherson Alston 

5 A Rare and Select Spirit Walked With Us 

Hal Smith 

6 'Nobody is Stagnating' 

Evelyn Baty Landis 

8 Christianity in Kerala 

Aley Thomas Philip 

10 Types of Intimidation 

George Boas 

13 Class News 

Margaret Dowe Cobb 

25 Worthy Notes 



Dr JM™._„ 



HIMit 1%6 



Ann Worthy Johnson '38, Editor 

Barbara Murlin Pendleton '40, Managing Editor 

John Stuart McKenzie, Design Consultant 



MEMBER OF AMERICAN ALUMNI COUNCIL 

Published November, February, April and July for alumnae and friends 
of Agnes Scott College. Subscription price for others $2.00 per year. 
Entered as second class matter at the Post Office of Decatur, Georgia 
under Act of August 24, 1912. 




COVERS 
Front Cover: President Emeritul 
James Ross McCain 
Back Cover: Mr. Alex Gaines (grandi 
son of the first president of Agnes 
Scott), Dr. Alston and Dr. McCain 
at the Seventy-fifth Anniversary o: 
the College. 

PHOTO CREDITS 

Page 3 by Tom Calloway. Page 5 b)l 
Thurston Hatcher. Page 6 by Leon 
Trice. Page 8 by Marion Crowd 
Pages 14, 16, 19, 22 by Charles PughJ 
Page 18 by Courier Journal and| 
Louisville Times. Pages 7, 20 by, 
Ken Patterson. 



■i 



Memorial Service to James Ross McCain 



Agnes Scott College 
November 3, 1965 




C. Benton Kline, Jr. 






& 



LMIGHTY GOD, our heavenly Father: 



Who hast made the world and set men in it to live lives of creativity 
and service to Thee; 

Who dost guide and direct the ways of men in the world and who 
dost number the days of every man; 

Who hast sent Thy Son, our Saviour Jesus Christ, to bring life and 
immortality to light through the Gospel; 

We give Thee thanks for this institution, for its founders who dedi- 
cated it to Thee, for those who through the years have as officers, teach- 
ers, students, and workers shared in its life under Thy guidance and 
direction, and who have sought to serve Thee by serving Agnes Scott. 

We thank Thee particularly for Thy servant, James Ross McCain, 
who for more than fifty years made this institution his life and his ser- 
vice to Thee. We thank Thee for his wisdom and foresight, his courage 
and resolution, his dedication to the cause of learning, his quiet, steady 
witness to Thy presence and direction in his own life, and his ever seek- 
ing Thy guidance for this college. 

We thank Thee for his service beyond the campus in the cause of 
education, in constructive community endeavor, and in the work of the 
church in this community and around the world. 

We thank Thee for his life as husband and father, for the radiant 
witness of his home, for his family. And we pray for them the comfort 
that comes from trust in Thee and the assurance of the reality of the 
unseen world where there is neither suffering nor sorrow. 

Renew our own confidence in Jesus Christ who by His death de- 
stroyed the power of death, and by His resurrection opened the kingdom 
of heaven to all believers. 

Grant us assurance that because He lives we shall live also and that 
neither death nor life nor things present nor things to come nor height 
nor depth nor anything in all creation shall be able to separate us from 
Thy love which is in Christ Jesus Our Lord. 

Amen. 



James Ross McCain 



A Genuinely Dedicate 



By WALLACE McPHERSON ALSTON 



I stood by last spring as Dr. McCain at the age 
of eighty-four set out alone to make a journey 
around the world. The occasion for the trip was 
a request from the Board of World Missions of the 
Presbyterian Church, U. S. that he study two mission 
colleges— one in Japan and one in Korea. He left us 
with no fear, but rather with anticipation, having pre- 
pared in his characteristic methodical and careful 
fashion for the experience that awaited him. There 
was work to be done for his Lord, and he was ready 
to answer the summons. Last Saturday evening I stood 
by again as my long-time friend set out on another 
journey — one for which he had made meticulous prep- 
aration and upon which he entered quietly and con- 
fidently. Once again, there was something required 
of him, and he was ready. God was good in that there 
was no lingering illness, little or no pain. Dr. McCain 
was at his desk in his home at the time of the heart 
attack, fully dressed, and with a son and daughter at 
his side. He died a little while later in the hospital that 
he had been largely instrumental in bringing to this 
community. His was a complete life. You won't mis- 
understand me when I say that the services Monday 
seemed to me more in the nature of a celebration than 
an occasion of mourning. There was thanksgiving and 
praise to God in it all. I am not underestimating the 
loss to his family, the church, the college, and the 
community. Outside of his immediate family circle, 
there are few people who will miss him as Mrs. Alston 
and I will. He has been our next-door neighbor for 
nearly eighteen years. I have known him since I was 
a small boy living across the street from him in the 
early years of his long service to Agnes Scott. His son 
Martin, who died at the age of thirteen, was my close 
childhood friend. Our baseball diamond was the plot 
of ground on which Dr. McCain decided to build the 
President's House into which the Alstons moved in 
1951. Our lives have been closely linked. He has been 
to me as much a part of the college environment as 
Main Tower! The impact of his life upon Agnes Scott 



and upon those of us who have known him well 
deep and permanent. 

James Ross McCain, son of John I. and Lula To 

McCain, was born near Covington, Tennessee, on Ap 

9, 1881. His father was for many years professor 

English at Erskine College in Due West, South Car 

hna. There most of his boyhood was spent. Much 

the pre-college preparation was received in his hor> 

and with the help of his parents and other relative 

The young boy entered Erskine College at the age 

fourteen, graduating with a straight A record when 1 

with the B.A. and M.A. degrees. Then followed a la 

course at Mercer University where James Ross McCa; 

received the LL.D. degree in 1901. He entered the la 

firm of Johnson and Nash in Spartanburg, South Care 

hna, where he practiced for two years, frying to sett) 

disputes over estates and wills was by no means satis 

fying to him. Dr. McCain, looking back upon thi 

period in his career, said, "No one comes to a lawye 

unless he is in trouble or planning to get someone els 

in trouble. I decided that teaching would be a mor 

constructive life work." 

From 1903 to 1905, James Ross McCain served a 
principal of the high school in Covington, Tennessee 
Then came one of the important decisions of his earh 
years. He was invited to Rome, Georgia, in 1905 tc 
launch the now well-known Darlington School foi 
Boys. The young man worked tirelessly, organizing the 
boarding school, raising money, teaching, and even 
coaching the football team. Dr. McCain once said thai 
his career as a football coach came to an abrupt end 
when the McCallie School in Chattanooga sent a team 
to Rome and defeated his boys 69 to 0. After this 
defeat, an athletic director for Darlington was em- 
ployed! 

It was in 1906 that the young headmaster persuaded 
Miss Pauline Martin to be his wife. They had pre- 
viously met when she was a junior at Erskine College 
for Women and he a law student at Mercer. 

During the Darlington years, James Ross McCain 

THE ACNES SCOTT 



hristian Gentleman 



eceived an M.A. degree from the University of Chi- 
ago and a Ph.D. in history from Columbia University, 
terspersing the work at Darlington with graduate 
udies, Dr. McCain remained in Rome until 1915 
hen President Frank H. Gaines and Mr. J. K. Orr, 
hairman of the Board, persuaded Dr. McCain to ac- 
cept the position of registrar and part-time teacher of 
■conomics at Agnes Scott College. 

In 1919, Dr. McCain was made vice president of 
\gnes Scott and was placed in charge of the financial 
levelopment of the college. Under his leadership, two 
;rants from the General Education Board (one for 
175.000 and another for $100,000) were matched in 
i highly successful campaign. 

When Dr. F. H. Gaines died on April 14, 1923, Dr. 
McCain became the second president of Agnes Scott 
'ollege. Dr. Gaines had laid a solid foundation. Dr. 
McCain in the years from 1923 to the date of his re- 
tirement in 1951 developed Agnes Scott remarkably, 
lifting it into the front rank of colleges for women in 
America. With courage, unselfishness, and clear-head- 
edness, he did more than any one person to shape the 
character of the college. He was brought to the college 
to lead — and he led! How he enjoyed a financial cam- 
paign! Most college administrators endure them; Dr. 
McCain dearly loved them! During his administration, 
the permanent assets of the college, largely through a 
succession of financial campaigns, were increased from 
slightly less than $900,000 to $7,023,000. The aca- 
demic and spiritual character of the college reflects the 
quality of Dr. McCain's lifelong purposes and con- 
victions. 

Let it never be forgotten that Dr. McCain set en- 
viable standards in higher education, not only for Agnes 
Scott College but for the southern part of this country 
as well. He was regarded as a leader in education in the 
South. He, with men like Chancellor Kirkland of Van- 
derbilt University and President Theodore Jack of Ran- 
dolph-Macon Woman's College, fought the early battles 
for standards of excellence and academic freedom in 




n r^ 



Dr. McCai 



institutions of higher education. Dr. McCain received 
regional and national recognition for his leadership, 
serving as President of the Association of American 
Colleges, President of the Southern University Con- 
ference, Senator of the United Chapters of Phi Beta 
Kappa, and a Trustee of the General Education Board 
of New York. Honorary degrees were conferred on 
him by Erskine, Davidson, Emory, University of Chat- 
tanooga, and Tulane. 

Dr. McCain's family has been and, indeed, continues 
to be a truly remarkable one. I wish each one of you 
might have known Mrs. McCain. She was an invalid 
for much of the time that I knew her. Though she 
seldom came to college events, she knew all about 
them and about the faculty and students — their names 
and their accomplishments. Dr. McCain's tenderness 
and thoughtfulness in dealing with her constitutes one 
of my most vivid impressions of their home. She, in 
turn, was a major source of his effectiveness. What a 
prayer life she led! She majored in the fine art of in- 
tercession as her contribution to Agnes Scott. As many 
of you know, three sons and three daughters, their 
wives and husbands, and 22 grandchildren constitute 
the immediate McCain family. 

No distinction that ever came to Dr. McCain was 
more richly merited than his election in 1951 as Mod- 
erator of the Presbyterian Church in the United States. 
His service to his local church, to his denomination, 
and to the whole Body of Christ has been faithful, con- 
structive, and sacrificial. 

It would be impossible even to mention the in- 
numerable channels through which Dr. McCain has 
served his community. I can not think of any important 
cause in Greater Atlanta or in the State of Georgia with 
which he has not been helpfully associated. I would 
not dare to appraise his contribution to the schools and 
colleges (Westminster, Darlington, Rabun Gap-Nacoo- 
che, Columbia Seminary, Erskine, and others); to the 
Protestant Radio and Television Center; to the DeKalb 

(Continued on next page) 



ALUMNAE QUARTERLY /WINTER 1966 



AChrisI 









(Continued) 



General Hospital; nor to any one of a dozen other 
worthwhile enterprises. 

When Dr. McCain retired as president of the college 
in 1951 and became our president emeritus, he entered 
upon a new phase of his service to Agnes Scott. Al- 
though relieved of administrative responsibilities, he 
continued as a member of our Board of Trustees, serv- 
ing for the past fourteen years as chairman of the 




Dr. McCain chats with students at a formal reception. Dr. Mc- 
Cain enjoyed his contacts with students in all levels of campus 
life, and he was a favorite guest at campus functions. 

executive committee. For fifty years he has given him- 
self to Agnes Scott College. The impact of his life upon 
this institution is simply incalculable. 

If I were asked to select the most impressive quali- 
ties in Dr. McCain's character and in his service to this 
college, I think I would choose four: 

Self-discipline was one of the secrets of Dr. McCain's 
effectiveness. His was one of the most orderly, habitual, 
regularized lives that I have known. If he was ever late 
for an engagement, I never heard of it. We went many 
places together, early and late. He was always ready 
and waiting, usually on his front porch, sometimes on 
mine. He had learned self-control, self-management, 
self-discipline; he was thereby enabled to focus his 



enormous energies, even when past eighty, upon 
task to which he had given himself. 

A second quality of Dr. McCain's life that will st; 
out in my remembrance of him was his faithfulness 
his commitments. It mattered not what they wt 
whether the weekly round-robin letter to his faml 
Rotary attendance, some one of a score of commit 
meetings that he scheduled almost every week of 
later life, or some duty undertaken for the church 
the college — Dr. McCain did what he had agreed to I 
I have never known a person who surpassed him 
this respect. 

Another aspect of Dr. McCain's life that I have p 
ticularly valued was the youthfulness and flexibility 
his mind. He had the ability to think, to face conte 
porary issues, even to change his mind. In the p; 
fifteen years, he and I talked about every conceivab 
thing concerning the present and the future of t 
college. I have never seen him run for shelter in sor 
shibboleth about "the good old days." His mind hi 
a growing edge. I came to realize that he was probab 
as youthful, as receptive to change, and as realistic 
person as any who serve on the Agnes Scott Boa' 
of Trustees. 

The heart of the matter, when all else has been sail 
is that Dr. McCain was a devout man, a genuine 
dedicated Christian gentleman. He doesn't make sen: 
unless this is understood. God was real to him. Hi 
faith was quite simple and uncomplicated. It was Bibl 
cal to the core, with a strong Presbyterian accent. H 
believed it and tried with every power of his being I 
live it. How many times those of us who knew hii 
have heard him close a prayer with a phrase that t 
him was no cliche but rather a summary of his faith 
"in the all-prevailing name of Jesus." Dr. McCai 
made everything he faced, all that he did, a mattet 
of prayer. When I came to Agnes Scott, I was shocke 
at first by the legend that it never rained on May Daj 
or on one of the other days when Agnes Scott sched 
uled out-of-doors events, because Dr. McCain and th 
Almighty were working things out together. I one 
asked him about this. He didn't claim to have anythin 
to do with the fact that we always had good weathe 
on such occasions — but he didn't deny that he migh 
have been in on it! He simply shrugged his shoulder 
in typical fashion, took a tug at his trousers, smilec 
and answered: "Well, I think the Lord will do what H< 
thinks is best." 

A life of great consequence has been lived in ou 
midst. This college has been the residury legatee o 
wealth — the wealth of character, conviction, conse 
crated service, and faith. Let us thank God that we 
have been thus favored and blessed. Let us thank God 
and take courage for the days ahead! 



THE ACNES SCOTT 



A Rare and Select 
Spirit Walked With Us 



T is my privilege to pay tribute to one of the most 
remarkable men I have ever had the pleasure of 

owing, Dr. James Ross McCain. 

He had been a member of the Board of Trustees of 
gnes Scott since 1923. After his retirement in 1951 
: president of the college, he had served as chairman 
l its executive committee. 

He shall be missed by many people in many areas 
l life, but none shall miss him more than we of the 
Dard of Trustees. His loyalty, wise counsel and deep 
iiderstanding could always be depended upon. 

A short time ago he came by my office, and we 
scussed various matters relating to the college. I was 
tpressed with the fact that, as always, he was looking 
id planning ahead. He was not one to look back- 
ard — this was one of the elements of his greatness. 

In all the relationships and institutions of life he 
ade a significant and permanent contribution. His 
nse of values both moral and material was unerring, 
is courage was steadfast under all of life's stresses, 
rains and emergencies. He answered every call of 
lty. He made this community and our lives richer by 
s presence. Few men's lives have been so valuable 
id counted for so much. 

The imprint of his life was strong in the church he 
ved. He was one of its outstanding leaders. 

In educational circles he had no peer. Agnes Scott, 

course, was his first love; however, his broad in- 
rest in education is substantiated by the fact that he 
rved on the Board of Trustees of Columbia Theo- 
gical Seminary, Erskine College, Rabun Gap-Na- 
lochee School, The Westminster Schools, Darlington 
:hool, and as a member of the Board of Visitors of 
avidson College. 

The City of Decatur, DeKalb County and metro- 
)litan Atlanta were close to his heart as evidenced by 
s interest and service in so many humanitarian ac- 
/ities. He had the full confidence of the business 
aders. They trusted him and followed him. He was 

strong man full of good works, led by the Hand 

God. 

He had a zest for life and lived it to the fullest, as 




As a young man Dr. McCain came to Agnes Scott from Dar- 
lington School in Rome, Georgia, where he was Headmaster. 



illustrated by his recent trip around the world. A short 
time ago he said, "My anticipation in making a trip 
around the world cannot compare with my excitement 
about my trip to Eternity." He often said, "The first 
fifteen minutes in Heaven will be the most exciting 
and glorious thing I can imagine." 

Dr. McCain towered above his peers in a unique 
way. He towered above us because he had found the 
simplicity of faith "in the all prevailing name of Jesus 
Christ," which left him free to dedicate his life in ser- 
vice to others. 

The memorial service held at the Decatur Presby- 
terian Church Monday left us all conscious that not 
many can measure up to his stature, but it left us with 
the determination to try harder to follow in the foot- 
steps of the Master that he followed so well. 

We thank our Heavenly Father that occasionally He 
sends a rare and choice spirit to walk the earth with 
strength of purpose and dedication, to inspire the lives 
of all. Such a man was our beloved Dr. McCain. 



UMNAE QUARTERLY/ WINTER 1966 




By EVALYN BATY LANDIS, Class of 1940 



ONCE I remarked to another mem- 
ber of the class of '40 how sur- 
prising it was that she and I 
could pick up our conversation after 
ten years or so just as if we had been 
seeing each other regularly. Her reply 
was, "It doesn't really matter if you 
are not together so long as you are 
growing in the same direction." 

At our twenty-fifth reunion last 
spring, I thought of this remark. For 
there we were, more than half our 
class, finding that we still liked each 
other — or, in some cases, discovering 
that we liked people we had not 
known well in school. Why? Certainly 
the feeling was not just nostalgia, a 
desire to reminisce about the days of 
the Gone With the Wind premiere and 
the Martian "invasion." The answer, 
it seems to me, is still the same: we 
have been growing in the same direc- 
tion. 

Two things are significant here. 
First, we have been growing. (And 
not physically! Answers to a question- 
naire revealed that most of us still 
wear the same size dress as in 1940.) 
But we have been growing as people. 
Some have full-time careers as teacher 
or pediatrician or bank teller or Red 
Cross director; some are volunteers in 
Scouts or church or League of Women 
Voters; some are pursuing hobbies of 
gardening or sailing or painting; some 
are studying for advanced degrees. 
Everybody has ideas about what to do 
with the years ahead: travel, most 
said, to Paris, to Greece, to the Orient, 
anywhere. Nobody is stagnating. Sec- 
ond, we have been growing in the 
same direction. Not that we all think 
alike, although we did find agreement 
on many subjects, but rather that we 



Nobody Is 
Stagnating 



have been growing toward maturity, 
toward realization of the best within 
us, toward fuller awareness of the 
world and our place in it. 

Would we have been the same 
without Agnes Scott? I think not. For 
many of us it was the turning point 
in our development as people. For 
that reason many of us cherish the 
same kind of education and atmos- 
phere for our daughters. We know 
how important those years are. 

Most of the influences we felt have 
characterized the college since its be- 
ginning and are still significant; some, 
perhaps, were peculiar to our era. In 
the first place, we were expected to be 
ladies. One item on our questionnaire 
asked whether the alumna wears 
shorts to the grocery store. It sounds 
like a silly question, but the replies 
did reveal something special: that 
most of us are still very conscious of 
appearances, of dressing to fit the oc- 
casion. Even in this informal age, 
many of us find that we cannot go to 
town happily without the hat and 
gloves required once upon a time for 
Atlanta. 

Being a lady was not just a matter 
of dress, of course. We were expected 
to practice social graces and to ac- 
quire appreciation of the "finer 
things." There were Wednesday night 
dinners, when we dressed formally, in- 
vited faculty members to sit at our 
tables, and had coffee afterwards in 
the Murphey Candler building. There 
was "Campus Code," published by 
Mortar Board the year we were se- 
niors, to explain how to make intro- 
ductions, how to answer invitations, 
how to conduct oneself at concerts 
and lectures ("follow the example of 



C 



more seasoned clappers, such as 
McCain in the chapel"). There v 
the college visitors invited to eai 
student tables, presided over by 
niors or seniors as hostesses. TH 
were trips to Atlanta by street 
(with all of us in long ever 
dresses) to hear a symphony or op>| 

In the second place, we foun< 
new sense of personal responsibil 
I have sometimes tried in vain to 
plain to someone from another sch 
how our Honor System worked, t 
we really did "turn ourselves in" ' 
going into a hotel lobby unchai 
ronedl We agitated to change certi 
social rules, of course, but to chan 
them not break them. The pres: 
generation wants drinking rules 
laxed; we wanted a smoking ro« 
and permission to dance with men 
the campus. Cheating was unthir 
able, and we protested greatly wh 
a student who inadvertently took 
exam book out with her was not 
lowed to turn it in later. 

Closely related to this sense 
moral responsibility was the religic 
atmosphere on the campus. We rep 
sented all kinds of iewpoints: Jewi: 
Catholic, fundamentalist or freethir 
ing Protestant, even agnostic. But 
knew that the real concern was 0! 
relationship to God, our growth 
decent human beings. We were n 
coerced or ridiculed; we were giv 
the chance to grow and find our ov 
answers, through Dr. McCain's Sul 
day School class for freshmen, throuj 
"morning watch" meditations led 1 
different girls, through chapel pr 
grams designed to stimulate inquir 
through mission work in the slums 
Atlanta in cooperation with Columb 



THE ACNES SCO 



HE AUTHOR: Evelyn Baty Landis 
from Agnes Scott in 1940. She 

ate work at Emory University, 
ht at Agnes Scott and Queens 
For the past few years she has 

hing at the Neuman School in 

leans, and last year their an- 

dedicated to her. She is the 

jf three children, and this year 

to private life. 



minary. As alumnae we are still 
versified in belief and practice but 
e also still concerned with eternal 
lues. 

Another emphasis, so much a part 
Agnes Scott tradition that it some- 
nes overshadows everything else in 
e minds of outsiders, is academic 
cellence. Perhaps that 1940 curricu- 
m looks narrow to the present stu- 
nt, and some of us realize that we 



did not accept enough of what was 
offered even so; but we studied and 
we questioned and we learned, in an 
atmosphere where intellectual curios- 
ity was the accepted attitude. We 
think we were fortunate in being 
guided by such giants as Dr. McCain, 
Mr. Stukes, Miss Alexander, Miss 
Hale, Miss Laney, Miss MacDougall, 
Miss Torrance, Miss Phythian, Miss 
Jackson, Mr. Holt — the list is a long 
one, including some whom present 
students are privileged to know, such 
as Dr. Hayes, Dr. Robinson, Miss 
Leyburn. 

These are the traditional Agnes 
Scott values, forming generations of 
other young women just as they 
molded us. But how was the class 
'40 different? I cannot accurately 
judge the spirit characteristic of other 
classes, but it does seem to me that 
ours was peculiarly attuned to civic 
responsibility and social problems. 
One '40 alumna says that Dr. Arthur 
Raper. professor of sociology, made 
the difference, that he released a 
spirit of concern for others that trans- 
formed even those not in his classes. 
His influence was undoubtedly tre- 
mendous. There were, however, other 




forces at work: our relative poverty in 
that time of Depression (someone 
called us the poorest class ever to 
graduate from Agnes Ccott); the war 
about to explode and make us re- 
examine our pacifist beliefs; an aware- 
ness of the world community, en- 
couraged in us by such teachers as 
Dr. Davidson and Mrs. Sims; voices 
being raised in behalf of rights for 
Negroes — at one point I remember 
that we were preparing a petition to 
integrate seating on street cars. What- 
ever the reasons, we were, and are, a 
class of do-gooders, in the best sense 
of the word. We are more prosperous 
now, and sometimes, perhaps, more 
restrained in our opinions and activi- 
ties, but essentially we are just older 
versions of the same enthusiastic 
young women who. learning about 
themselves and their world, wanted 
to he something and do something. 

Agnes Scott then was not just a 
pleasant place to spend four years. 
It was a source of abiding friendship, 
of a sense of beauty, of personal mo- 
rality and faith, of intellectual attain- 
ment and promise, and finally of 
commitment to life. All of this sounds 
sentimental, I know, and perhaps a 
little smug, for it is difficult to pay 
tribute to a strong force in one's life 
without implying satisfaction with the 
result. Nor do I pretend that I speak 
for all alumnae, for there naturally 
were those who found the academic 
standards too high, or the social regu- 
lations unduly restrictive, or the moral 
idealism unrealistic. I do believe, 
strongly, however, that this college of 
ours has had a large part in making 
us what we are: not finished products, 
proud of our achievements, but grow- 
ing individuals, seeking and working 
to find the answer for successful 
living. 

Two other alumnae members of the 
class of 1940 have expressed well our 
feeling of debt to Agnes Scott. One 
said, "Agnes Scott has tempered us 
and left us well qualified to meet 
other tests." The other said, "The 
Agnes Scott experience with its spe- 
cial atmosphere, its exposure to ideas, 
study, fine relations and friendships 
with both faculty and students, was 
for me the best thing that could have 
happened at that time. It is particu- 
larly rewarding to me to know that 
the college is forging ahead, abreast 
of the times, and extending this ex- 
perience to more and more." 



UMNAE QUARTERLY/ WINTER 1%6 




Librarian Edna Hanley Byers welcomes Aley Thomas Philip to Agnes Scott. 



ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Mrs. Philip 
a visiting scholar in political scienc 
the fall quarter at Agnes Scott Collej 
the U. S— India Woman's College 
change Program. She also taught a 
tinuing education course for alu. 
on Modern India. This quarter si 
teaching at Queen's College. 



Agnes Scott's 
first Indian 
exchange profes 
enlightens us or 



I COME from Kerala and it is 
J- deed a far cry from Decatur. L 
Georgia it is one of the southernrr 
states in India. It is a place of w 
derful scenic beauty, with hills ; 
alleys and rivers. We've thick gn 
vegetation as if a green carpet 
been spread all over the place. ' 
have tall coconut palms that sway 
the winds. We have extensive pla 
of paddy fields that undulate in 
wind. Kerala is at the very tip 
India, washed by the waters of 
Indian Ocean, the Arabian Sea 
the Bay of Bengal. Yet I must a 
that Kerala is politically a problf 
state. It has the highest percentage 
literacy, and unemployment, the lo 
est percentage of industrialization, as 
the smallest area. Thus with so mat 
highests and lowests Kerala is inde 
an enigma. 

Whenever you think of India 1 
think of her as a Hindu state. You a 
right because the vast majority 
them is Hindu. But India is a secuh 
state and thus gives religious freedo 
to people of all religious denomin 
tions — only a small percentage — 5' 
of the total population is Christia 
and of that 3% lives in Kerala. C 
if you take the population of Keral, 
'/i the population is Christian. In ec 
ucation, industry, and political life th 
Christian community is indeed an en 
phatic community in Kerala, unlik 
Christians elsewhere in India. 

I do not belong to any of th 
churches that exist in America, 
belong to an essentially indigenou 

THE ACNES SCOT 



hRistianity in keRAU 



y ALEY THOMAS PHILIP 



lurch in Kerala — to one of the old- 
t Christian communities of the 
orld. I call myself a Syrian Christian 
nd hence I have been free from all 
estern missionary influences. What 
oes the term Syrian Christian signify? 
It is commonly held that Christi- 
hity in India is an importation from 
te West. This is understandable be- 
ause at various times during the long 
nd checkered history of India, parts 
f it came under the domination of 
le Portuguese, the French, the Dutch, 
nd finally the whole of it, under the 
Jritish. All these Western powers 
/ere Christian powers and conversion 
/as the concomitant of foreign domi- 
ation. Thus in India Christianity has 
een identified as an exotic Western 
roduct from Portugal, Holland, or 
England. But 1 500 years before these 
Vestern powers ever came to India 
Christianity had taken deep roots in 
Lerala. 

After Christ's death in 31 AD, His 
)isciples went in various directions 
reaching the Gospel. They cast lots 
mong themselves as to where each 
hould go — and to Thomas — the 
oubting Thomas fell the lot to go to 
ndia. Peter went to Rome. St. 
Tiomas came to India with some 
)reek traders who had trade relations 
/ith South India. He landed on the 
/estern coast of Kerala in 52 A.D. 
nd founded 7 churches there and 
onverted a number of high-caste 
lindus he found there. He journeyed 
tiroughout Kerala, converting many; 
e went across to the eastern side. 



He went out to Madras and there he 
was martyred in 68 A.D. He was 
buried in Madras in St. Thomas Ca- 
thedral. In 1952. we celebrated the 
nineteen hundredth anniversary of the 
founding of our church. 

During the first few centuries after 
the death of St. Thomas, the Chris- 
tians of Kerala enjoyed a long period 
of peace and quietude during which 
they increased in number. The Chris- 
tians were regarded among the noble 
races of Kerala. The 7 churches 
founded by St. Thomas were cared 
for by the Nestorian Church of Baby- 
lon — and our bishop and clergy came 
to be ordained by the Patriarch of 
Babylon, and hence we call ourselves 
Syrian Christians. Another reason why 
we call ourselves Syrian Christians is 
that several Christian immigrants from 
Syria came and settled in Kerala for 
purposes of trade and intermarried 
with the native Christians. But the 
real reason for the term Syrian Chris- 
tian is that our liturgy is Syrian. 
Syriac is a dialect of Aramiac, the 
language of Jesus Christ and His Dis- 
ciples, and became the language of 
the Church at Babylon and hence of 
the Church of Kerala. In recent times 
we've translated a great deal of the 
Syrian liturgy into our own mother 
tongue — Malayalam. 

When the Portuguese conquered 
parts of India in 1542, they tried to 
break the connections between the 
Syrian Christians and the Patriarch of 
Babylon and make them acknowledge 
the authority of the Pope in Rome. 



The Syrian Christians were unwilling 
to give up a tradition that they had 
from the 1st century A.D. They 
gloried in its antiquity and refused 
to acknowledge the Pope — at least, 
the majority of them refused. By 1653, 
the Portuguese backed up by political 
and military power in India, arrested 
a bishop sent from Babylon, preented 
him from landing in India, and when 
he did. sent him to the Court of In- 
quisition in Goa. When the Syrian 
Christians heard of it they were angry 
and decided to resist the Portuguese. 
They gathered at a place and erected 
a large wooden cross. Every one took 
an oath, touching the cross, that they 
would have nothing to do with the 
Portuguese bishops. Their number was 
so great that all of them could not 
touch the cross and take the oath. So 
they connected themselves to the cross 
by long ropes. The cross actually bent 
under the pull and the place is still 
known as the place of the "Bent 
Cross." That marked the final split 
between the Roman Catholics who 
acknowledged Portuguese bishops and 
the Syrian Christians who refused to. 
Thus I belong to the Syrian Christian 
Church and this very nominally owes 
allegiance to the Patriarch at Babylon. 
Apart from that, it is free from all 
outside control. Many of our cus- 
toms are like those of the Hindus. 
I wear on a gold chain around my 
neck a small pendant in the form of 
a paddy with a cross on top of it. It 
is a symbol of the Syrian Christian 
marriage. 



LUMNAE QUARTERLY / WINTER 1966 



Types of Intimidation 



T 



HERE IS no doubt about it: people like to be 
scared. 

The fairy tales we read as children were full 
of ogres, witches, blood-thirsty giants, changelings, 
people turned into beasts by the spells of magicians. 
And when there was nothing inherently horrible to 
frighten us, we read about The Man Who Could Not 
Shiver and Shake — and never stopped to ask why he 
should want to. As we grew up, we read the gruesome 
tales of Edgar Allan Poe and were told that they 
were great masterpieces of romantic imagination. 
And in college we learned that the whole thing was 
a literary tradition going back to the Golden Ass 
of Apuleius, the stories of martyrdom and battle 
in the Middle Ages, the Gothick Novel, that whole 
series of crime and detective stories in which the murder 
committed in the first chapter is not solved until the 
last, with the result that one is supposed to be on pins 
and needles until the book is ended. I don't imagine 
that I need mention the contemporary novel of horror 
in which a half-ruined ante helium mansion in Missis- 
sippi replaces the ruined castles of Ann Radcliffe, and 
idiots, perverts, and generally ineffectual fellows be- 
come the heroes. 

This was all very well, so long as it was confined 
to fiction. When one's life is sunny and happy, it is good 
to sit in the shade and mope; and the tales of gloom and 
horror provided a thick shelter from the joy of life. 
But one can take just about so much. The worm who 
is turning in these pages revolted when he was giving 
a course in the History of Philosophy and found that 
— of all the philosophers whose doctrines he was try- 
ing to expound — Schopenhauer was the one who ap- 
pealed the most strongly to his class. That we are 
dominated by the Will to Live, and that it is inherently 
evil, seemed to most of the young hopeless to be a 
real revelation. 

But, since reflection is my trade, I began to think a 
bit more deeply than was economically necessary. I 
woke up to the fact that if one took seriously the works 
of the Intelligentsia, Schopenhauer was right. The only 
way of not being scared to death was by not reading 
anything other than the sporting pages of the daily 

'Copyright 1965 by Editorial Projects for Education. Inc. 



papers. There might be defeat in that form of literatul 
but there was seldom tragedy. I 



I KNEW A MAN ONCE who always urged me to ta 
what he called the point of view of Sirius, which ( 
everyone knows, but I'll tell you nevertheless) is 
somewhat distant star. From the point of view of Sirii 
nothing that happens on Earth is of much important 
One would think of this Earth as a minor planet turni: 
about a minor sun in a minor solar system of one 
the lesser galaxies. 

If you elaborate on this theme in a throaty tremol 
you become pretty depressing. At least it depress^ 
me to hear an organ voice telling me that human lifi| 
from the cosmic point of view, was of less importance 
than that of a mosquito. All my loves and hates, m 
family, my birthplace, my country: nothing counted 
at least from the point of view of Canis Major. Thl 
no doubt was true enough, but I was not living on th 
burning star, eight and a half light years away froi 
Providence, R. I., and from my professor of mathc- 
matics, who refused to assume this astronomical att! 
tude. Furthermore (it occurred to me in one of thos 
rare moments of enlightenment that punctuated m 
youth), though no one was living on Sirius, yet if ther 
had been someone there, maybe he would have beei 
told to take the point of view of Earth. If a Siriai- 
undergraduate was about to flunk mathematics, coufo 
he go to his professor and tell him that if he would 
only take the point of view of Earth, he would see tha 
it was unimportant whether he passed his incompeten 
students or not? I was only too willing to admit th< 
relativity of values, but to say that something is un< 
important in a situation in which it doesn't exist i: 
no more than saying that earthworms don't care fo: 
Michelangelo. My problems were down here on Earth 
and, though they might not be problems in the starry 
heavens, they were real enough in relation to humari 
society. For that matter, they concerned no one except 
those unfortunate members of my family who were 
paying my tuition. But that didn't lessen their sting. 

Astronomical intimidation is the most respectable 
It has a kind of Pascalian grandeur about it. It is a 
throwback to Seneca and his Stoic predecessors. But 



HI 



THE AGNES SCOTT 



GEORGE BOAS 



ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Dr. Boas received degrees from Brown, 
Harvard, and California, and is professor emeritus of philosophy 
at the Johns Hopkins University. This is the second of a series 
of Dr. Boas' articles published by the Quarterly. He was Agnes 
Scott's Honor's Day speaker last fall. 



letimes people descend from the skies and turn to 
logy for their arguments. Man, they then say, is 
one of the primates, a fancy kind of ape which 
iceals his simian ancestry by his smooth skin and 
tigial tail. He can best be understood when one 
s that all his hopes and aspirations can be trans- 
ad into animal drives, pre-eminently sex and hunger, 
ne Nineteenth Century writers resorted to that low- 
of polemical tricks, the philosophic pun. Playing 
on the word "fitness," they argued that the weak 
re obviously unfit to survive and therefore should 
to the wall. Away, they said, with those who cannot 
i in the struggle for existence. We must become a 
e of He-Men, battling our way to success, with 
lging muscles and prognathous jaws. 
I was never much of a Tarzan, myself, and that may 
count for a certain skepticism that this ploy aroused 
me. It was delightfully gloomy, no question about 
at. But the hairy apes on the campus just didn*t 
sm to me to be so fit to survive as we weaker but 
Dre entertaining types did. And finally I realized that 
there was a struggle for existence going on, as we 
;re told, all exhortation to join in was futile. And 
en, of course, I read Kropotkin and decided that co- 
leration was often more useful than muscles. 

ORSE than either astronomical or biological intimi- 
.tion is historical. There may well be some laws of 
story, but I think I am on safe ground in saying that 

far they have not been generally accepted. Men like 
ireto, Spengler. and Toynbee are certainly ingenious 
eculators, and they have set up ingenious mod- 
> that have appealed to the general public. The 
eat appeal of Spengler was that he gave us no hope 
natsoever. The West was doomed. For its culture, like 
1 others, was turning into a civilization, creation turn- 
g into routine, and sooner or later what had started 
it as a vigorous, youthful society would become senile 
id moribund, and then just lie down and die. 

This was a law, and we might as well recognize it. 
istorical laws laid down declines and falls, the west- 
ird or the northward course of empire, the search for 
bensraum, the inevitable spread of democracy (pro- 
ulgated by the president of the American Historical 



Association as late as 1925), the ultimate triumph of 
the good — undefined — or the emergence of a classless 
society. Some of these laws were fairly good descrip- 
tions of what had happened up to the time of their 
publication, but as prophecy they were all failures. It 
is as if human beings were so cussed that they refused 
to obey the laws of their own development. As soon 
as a historical law was voted and signed, people started 
in to violate it — just as they do with statutes. 

If I am right in thinking that these historical laws 
cannot serve for prediction, there must be something 
in the human condition that prevents it. There is no 
question in my own mind that some generalizations 
about human beings are possible. But we have also 
found out that there are certain individual traits, both 
physiological and psychological, that induce disorder 
in every community. I refer to nothing more recondite 
than the antithetical traits of submissiveness and re- 
calcitrancy. We shall someday know why people differ 
in their willingness to submit to law; the reason may 
lie. for all I know, in their endocrine physiology. But 
that they do differ, no one would deny. Furthermore, 
no one would deny that recalcitrants exist in all socie- 
ties, even in religious orders and the armed services. 
One has only to hear of a law in order to want to 
disobey it. And the possibilities of getting away with 
disobedience need not be minimized. 

The diversities in human nature which are of interest 
here are those that bring about conflicts. Though the 
majority of people form a statistical whole, the be- 
havior which can be described in general propositions, 
the minority is always there — and we have learned 
that an organized minority can always have its way 
over a loose majority. 

But even here the organization must exist for some 
purpose or other, even though the purpose be stupid. 
It may be merely the perpetuation of a slogan, like 
The Wave of the Future. If the future is something 
inevitable, bound to come, one is supposed to give in 
and accept one's fate. But why give in? Why not put 
off the evil as long as possible? It is inevitable that we 
all die, some time or other. Should we therefore slit 
our throats to help the processes of history? Why not 

(Continued on next page) 



JMNAE QUARTERLY / WINTER 1%6 



11 



Types of Intimidation (continued) 



arsue that since the sun will inevitably set, one might 
as well pull down the blinds and live in darkness? 

MORE POPULAR THAN HISTORICAL LAW is 

Old Man Economics, as we used to call it in my 
youth. A hundred years ago, writers like Herbert 
Spencer were saying that Evolution would take care 
of everything. Now it is no longer evolution, but 
economic determinism. If this simply means that peo- 
ple would rather be rich than poor, we can all join 
hands in happy unison. But that is too superficial an 
interpretation of economic determinism. You must 
bring in unconscious motivations to make it profound, 
for to say that we don't know what we are doing 
(though probably true in too many cases) always 
seems deeper than to speak of a conscious program 
as a real one. 

Only a man who was young when this theory first 
hit the classrooms can feel its sting. If you saw edu- 
cation, politics, international relations, and even the 
arts and sciences as the victims of the moneymaking 
classes, what was the good of fooling yourself that 
truth, beauty, and goodness could be pursued in a 
disinterested fashion? Those of us who volunteered 
for service in the first World War might have thought 
we were fighting to make the world safe for democ- 
racy; we were really, the theory told us later, fighting 
to make it safe for U. S. Steel. Those of us who were 
teaching school in the hope that education would make 
students more intelligent were really, we were informed, 
teaching them to stuff the pockets of the trustees and 
their hidden bosses in industry and finance. There was 
nothing we could do about it. except of course gloat 
over our impotence and have another drink. 

But (there is always a but) the economic determin- 
ist went right on writing his books, preaching his 
doctrines, haranguing his audiences, just like any other 
man who has an idea he wants to propagate. I have 
not noticed that even the Soviet leaders have been 
willing to rely entirely on the ultimate victory of the 
proletariat, as promised by the laws of dialectical ma- 
terialism, without benefit of propaganda. Usually we 
don't cheer the Law of Falling Bodies to make it work 
better, nor do we urge our fellows to climb on the 
bandwagon of the Binomial Theorem. One can be 
open-minded when an outcome is inevitable. Could it 
be that the economic determinists suspect that human 
beings act differently from physical objects? 

THE LAWS OF HISTORY and of economics are 
accompanied sometimes by the laws of sociology. And 



these are supplemented by those of biochemistry, 
netics. and psychodynamics. Listening to them be 
expounded, we sit covered with goosefiesh as we real 
our utter incompetence to do anything but shiver.) 
would, however, be boring to take up each typej 
detail. 

I shall end on a brief consideration of what | 
might call general determinism. The spokesman 
this type of philosophy maintains that everything t| 
happens is caused, and that causation follows a gene 
pattern which is never broken. Therefore we hun| 
beings are in the fell clutch of circumstance, with 
army of inexorable law guarding us — and woe to 
man who pretends that he can break out of whate'| 
this mixed metaphor symbolizes. 

There is something fishy about all this. The genefl 
determinist is willing to admit that each cause ccf 
tributes something to the future. He is willing to 
that antibiotics will kill pneumococci, that nitrog 
will aid the growth of plants, that a glass of water w 
quench thirst. Every physical object, every complex 
physical objects, is allowed a share in shaping t 
future. The only exception is, oddly enough, hum 
beings. If, however, determinism is really general, he 
explain this glaring exception? Why is it that of all 
things in the cosmos this one group should be uttei 
ineffectual? 

Moreover, no cause operates in a vacuum. Thin' 
occur in contexts. And everything that enters into 
causal situation modifies its outcome. Hence if hum; 
beings are involved in changes of any kind, the: 
presence must make a difference to what is going o 
An axe will cut down a tree only if wieldi 
by a man. And there are, as it happens, different typ 
of man, in some of whose hands the axe will not c 
down the tree. Men are anatomically and physiolog 
cally different from one another. They vary in the 
sensitivity to drugs, to heat and cold, to other humc 
beings, to works of art, to education, to eve) 
imaginable influence. How can one believe that, wiii 
all this, they contribute nothing whatsoever to tit 
events of which they are a part? 

TO POINT to such details of thinking is to rob me 
of the pleasure they can take in despair. Despair is 
great help to the incompetent, for it excuses their ii 
action. Fortunately it is also the end of the road. It ma 
be that when the hucksters of despondency have sun 
their wares for a certain time, someone like the chil 
in The Emperor's Clothes will see the nakedness c 
their philosophy. 



THE ACNES SCOT 




-ie Reverend Charles R. McCain, one of Dr. James 
oss McCain's sons, wrote Marybeth Little Weston '48 as 
esident of the Alumnae Association to thank her for 
pressions of sympathy upon the occasion of Dr. McCain's 
:ath last fall. Marybeth asked that we share the letter with 
alumnae. 

Dear Mrs. Weston: 

Please let me express to you for the family our 
deep appreciation for your telegram at our father's 
death. 

In his will Father stated that he thought Agnes 
Scott College to be the best investment one could make 
of time and money. He himself devoted most of his 
life to the College. He was very proud of the College 
and its progress, but always felt that its greatest asset 
' was its students and alumnae and the influence of 
their lives in the world. This was the thing that made 
i him feel Christian education was so worthwhile. 

He was not always able to keep up with the 
alumnae as well as he would have liked in recent 
years, but it was always amazing to us that he kept 
so up-to-date with so many. 

We have many things for which to be grateful at 
this time, but we have all been especially helped and 
strengthened by the many expressions of sympathy 
and understanding from alumnae. We wish it were 
possible to express a personal word of appreciation 
to each one and hope that some way, through alumnae 
channels, you might do this for us. 

With best wishes to you, 

Sincerely, 

Charles R. McCain 

Allow me to select Charles McCain's phrase "its greatest 
sset was its students and alumnae" to use as a preface 
a an announcement of the establishment of the James Ross 
4cCain Lectureship Fund. 

It all began with students. Before Christmas several stu- 
ents discussed among themselves a memorial for Dr. 
McCain (I hear that, seeking to discover campus needs, 
hey had suggestions of everything from repainting the 
ate parlors in Main to erecting a chapel.) One of the 
tudents, Mary Brown, daughter of Mardia Hopper Brown 
42, a senior, president of Christian Association and mem- 
>er of Mortar Board, took the suggestions to Representa- 
ive Council (the student "congress"), to President Alston, 
nd to the Alumnae Association. 

Uppermost in student thinking about a memorial was 




| \^(fvX^ . . . 



something which would in all the years to come make 
Dr. McCain's memory an integral part of the lives of 
students at Agnes Scott. The income from the McCain 
Lectureship Fund will "provide a lecture or series of lec- 
tures on some aspect of the liberal arts and sciences 
with reference to the religious dimensions of human life." 
Thus will be linked the two concerns which imbued Dr. 
McCain's life, providing education for women that was 
"the finest in the land" and an essentially strong but 
simple Christian faith. 

It is both fitting and humbling to know that the initia- 
tive for the McCain Lectureship came from students — 
fitting because Dr. McCain believed so implicitly in starting 
any fund-raising effort on campus, and humbling because 
the "older" members of the Agnes Scott community, 
alumnae, faculty, administration, trustees are, once again, 
grateful to student leadership. 

With this impetus from students, the College is now 
planning to offer all members of the college community, 
plus persons outside the college family who were close to 
Dr. McCain, an invitation to help establish the Lectureship 
Fund. Alumnae will receive notice about this soon, and 
we trust that by the time of Dr. McCain's birthday, April 9. 
the firm foundation for the Lectureship will be secured. 

From this time forward, I believe that Founder's Day 
at Agnes Scott will remind us of Dr. McCain. It does as 
I write these words, and makes me know that we shall 
stop for a moment this time of year for the rest of our 
lives to offer individual prayers of praise and thanksgiving 
for the life of that great man with whom we were privileged 
to walk during our college years. This kind of memorial 
will continue in the hearts of countless alumnae. 

Founder's Day on campus will be marked by a special 
convocation on the liberal arts, with Dean Judson C. Ward 
of Emory University as speaker. After Dr. Ward's address, 
members of local alumnae clubs will hear a student panel 
discuss various aspects of current student life. 

Mark your calendars for Sunday afternoon, March 6, 
when four Agnes Scott students will appear on national 
television. The program is General Electric's "College 
Bowl," shown on NBC-TV at 5:30 p.m. (EST). Eleanor N. 
Hutchens '40, associate professor of English, is coaching 
our team. Gather your alumnae neighbors on March 6 and 
let's have the fun of rooting for Agnes Scott! 



RETURN POSTAGE GUARANTEED BY ALUMNAE QUARTERLY, AGNES SCOTT COLLEGE, DECATUR, GEORGIA 3003 



/%^ £*W 7-h^^y 




IsQ 










To\Kfep Pace With America • see fage 13 :,js~- 
ALUMNAE QUARTERLY SPR>NC/19^6. 



-r" V 



u 



I'- 










THE ALUMNAE QUARTERLY 

SPRING 1966 



VOL. 44, NO. 3 



CONTENTS 

2 Warren Exhibits Recent Work 

4 On Doing Something Shocking 

John A. Tumblin, Jr. 

7 Class News 

Margaret Dowe Cobb 

13 To Keep Pace with America 

Editorial Projects for Education, Inc. 

41 Worthy Notes 



Ann Worthy Johnson '38, Editor 

Barbara Murlin Pendleton '40, Managing Editor 

John Stuart McKenzie, Design Consultant 



MEMBER OF AMERICAN ALUMNI COUNCIL 

Published November, February, April and July for alumnae and friends 
of Agnes Scott College. Subscription price for others $2.00 per year. 
Entered as second class matter at the Post Office of Decatur, Georgia, 
under Act of August 24, 1912. 



, 



1 



AGNES 
SCOTT 



' * 



\ 






SfeJ-f/ 




PHOTO CREDITS 



Cover shots, Bill Wilson, p. 4 E^ 
Bucher, p. 8 Carrington Wilsor 
p. 11 Todd McCain Reagan, p. 3 
& 36 Ken Patterson, p. 32 TIJ 
Greenville News, p. 39 Universit" 
of Washington Audio-Visual Prd 
duction Service. 



COVERS 

Spring at Agnes Scott means among other things dogwood and 
bicycles. L., Karen Stiefelmeyer '66, Cullman, Ala. R., Jo Ann Morris 
'66, Coral Gables, Fla. 







Ellen Douglass Leyburn ' u 27 



1907-1966 



Miss Leyburn, professor of English and head of the 
department, died on March 20, after years of her un- 
believably heroic battle with serious illness. The integrity 
of her life is reflected in the lives of many alumnae — she 
never wavered in demanding, quite simply, the best. A 
faculty colleague says: "Miss Leyburn always managed to 
make something other than excellence in college matters 
be the issue; she made us expect excellence as a given." 




City at Night 



Ferdinand Warrei 




i 



Table Top 



Nautical Theme 




Top: )et Flight (Oil) 
Bottom: North Georgia (Water Color) 



The range of Mr. Warren's talent 
is remarkable. Working in vari- 
ts media and various moods, he 
rns from creating an almost clas- 
I still-life to painting in contempo- 
ry idiom the impact that the great, 
jrgeoning city of Atlanta makes 
I him. Agnes Scott is fortunate in- 
ed to have him as chairman of 
te art department. 




>v yi 



f 



khibits His Recent Work 





Poppies 



Don Quixote 





SIX years ago a Spelman student 
characterized Agnes Scott College 
as "a hotbed of apathy" in a talk she 
made here. This was during the time 
when the state of Georgia was skirting 
dangerously close to wrecking its pub- 
lic school system over the question of 
desegregation. It was also just before 
the Tumblins moved here from Brazil, 
and when we read the article in what 
was then the Agnes Scott News, we 
were horrified. We were relieved to 
find upon arrival here that it wasn't 
so, and it certainly is not true today. 
This afternoon many of you are going 
out to demonstrate in favor of "our 
commitment in Viet Nam." Bully for 
you! In the last three weeks two of 
you wrote intelligent protests against 
loose thinking during your preparation 
for today's demonstration. Bully for 
them and those they represent, too! 
We welcome controversy and concern 
in this place. It is part of the stuff 
out of which we build new ideas and 
revamp old ones and keep "growing 
points," as Barbara Ward expressed it 
here the other day, on the tips of the 
branches of our existence. 

But openness to the new, the dif- 
ferent, the out-of-the-ordinary is only 
maintained by doing, by planning to 
determine how, and by some effort to 
"keep in practice." If we sit back, we 
are quite likely to settle into routines 
which solve current needs, ignore al- 
ternative solutions, become ritualized, 
and eventually become endowed with 
the weighted definitions of "proper," 
"holy," and "the only reasonable way." 

I believe that you Sophomores are 
in the midst of a healthy climate. Ex- 
posed to the stimulus of conflicting 
ideas, active in groups on and off cam- 
pus which are testing many of these 
ideas in real-life behavior, you are 
making decisions about college, court- 
ship, career with a degree of aplomb 
which you certainly did not show dur- 
ing those maddening months in the 



On Doing Som( 



winter of last year. Maybe your pos- 
ture has been propped up for your 
parents, but you don't look like you 
are suffering from Sophomore Slump 
to me! At eight-thirty on a Monday 
morning once in awhile, you may look 
tired and a bit worn around edges, but 
you still look perfectly capable of 
fighting like well-mannered banshees 
for or against anything in which you 
believe. Furthermore, I'll go out on a 
limb and insist that in spite of those 
transcripts to Carolina and F.S.U., I 
will be seeing most of you, grinning 
half-apologetically, right back here 
next fall. 

So it is not so much your Sopho- 
more year that concerns me just now, 
but your Senior one and the year after 
that. What will the "Popeye" class be 
like after the sailor hat is replaced by 
the mortarboard? 

By the end of the Christmas holi- 
days, or at least by Saint Valentine's 
Day, about a third of you will have 
diamond rings on the left hand and 
be well on the way toward getting 
married no later than Saturday, June 
30, 1968. Most of the remainder will 
be moping around, searching for re- 
assurances that there really isn't any- 
thing basically wrong with you . . . 
and there won't be. This is terrible! 
About one-sixth will be preparing to 
enter graduate school in the fall, and a 
third or more will start teaching 
runny-nosed little kids in one of the 
better-paying school systems, prefer- 
ably near a large city where you can 
get another alumna to share the costs 
of an apartment. How horrible! A 
handful will try being secretaries for 
awhile. Later, you will moan and 
groan when a little blonde thing who 
barely made it through high school 
and a messy business college is pro- 
moted ahead of you because she can 
take shorthand and type mindlessly at 
one hundred and twenty words per 
minute. How dull! To crown it all, I 



am afraid most of you will buy a c: 
and for the next twenty-eight mom 
that assortment of chrome, paint a 
bolts will so tie you to job, budgi 
and the boundaries of one state ffl 
you will begin to wonder if the thi 
belongs to you or if you belong to t 
thing. 

It's not that I object to love, we/ 
ding bells, respectable jobs and nt 
automobiles. I could wish each and 
of these for any of you. It's just th 
acquiring these has become so p;j 
terned, predictable, and ritualize 
that I'm afraid the whole bit w 
wound and hurt some among ye 
whom I like the most and for whom' 
would wish the best. 

When that Senior year comi 
around, if you really want to g 
married, buy a ranch-style house, drr, 
a new car, take a conventional joi 
go ahead, and God bless you. It's r 
spectable, patriotic, and good for tl 
U. S. economy. But if you aren't su: 
you want to do these things right awa 
or if you don't have a chance to, I 
me make a suggestion. Do sorrn 
thing shocking. 

By "doing something shocking" 
obviously don't mean just becoming a 
A-go-go Dancer, seducing the Dea 
of a college, or telling the Intern; 
Revenue Bureau that your Uncle He; 
man has still another source of ir 
come. I mean daring, deliberately, fc 
reasons that are clear to you, to expos 
yourself to a threatening and some, 
what dangerous experience of cultui 
shock before you settle down to dur. 
licate most of the behavior patterns c 
your peers. 

Culture shock is an experience f; 
miliar to those who suddenly hav 
found themselves in a totally differen 
environment, where the common signs 
symbols, and values that govern socia 
interaction no longer apply. All of u 
have had this experience to a degree 
leaving a comfortable home, then 

THE ACNES SCOT' 



y 



Shockim 



By JOHN A. TUMBLIN, JR. 



arning to get along in a nursery 
thool, and then finding the rules don't 
3ply in the first grade. Or, you may 
ave made it all the way to class pres- 
ient and Beta Club in a co-ed high 
?hool, then found yourself competing 
: Agnes Scott with scores of Beta 
lubbers who were also Valedictor- 
,ns, and who always looked so poised 
hile you anguished over that miser- 
ble Freshman English paper Miss 
[utchens had just handed back to 
ou. In a different area, perhaps you 
new for sure you could handle any 
esh boy in the world after dealing 
mh Joe Smith back home, then 
ound that the techniques just didn't 
ork with a fraternity-full of Rho 
ho Rho's who were already well into 
neir fourth cans of Milwaukee's finest. 
These experiences with mild cul- 
ure shock were helpful, I'll grant you, 
i learning to get along with white, 
inglo-Saxon, middle-class Protestants 
'f the South. But their very effective- 
ness may have immunized and nar- 
otized you as well, so that our seg- 
nent of current behavior patterns in 
America has become for you under- 
tandable, right, proper, and "the way 
hings are." Even a summer trip 
ibroad, or three months of work in 
i New York black ghetto is measured 
>y the norms of this level of American 
ociety and is of only limited value in 
;aining as different a perspective of 
'ourself and of human behavior as 
'ou might well profit from having. 

Vbout the Author: This article is edited 
rom an address Dr. Tumblin made at 
lOphomore Parent's Week-End. Born in 
Srazil, John Tumblin holds a bachelor's 
legree from Wake Forest College, and 
he master's and Ph.D. degrees from 
3uke University. He has taught at 
tandolph-Macon Woman's College, Duke 
Jniversity, two colleges in Brazil, and is 
low Chairman of the Department of 
iconomics and Sociology at Agnes Scott. 



For some of you. then, 1 would urge 
exposure to the experience every pro- 
fessional anthropologist must have as 
part of his training, the experience of 
living for at least a year among people 
whose language vou must learn, whose 
customs make no sense at first, whose 
values are predicted on different prem- 
ises, whose facial expressions, tones of 
voice, overt and covert gestures, cloth- 
ing, smells, and foods are alien. Only 
after you have experienced the pattern 
there, and seen that it makes sense, 
can you fully appreciate that any set 
of ways of coping with life is mainly 
relative. And, having geuninely ex- 
perienced and understood cultural rel- 
ativity, then come home to weigh, to 
judge, to assess alternative behaviors 
more objectively. 

The experience I am urging for 
some of you will be a miserable one 
in a number of ways and a wonder- 
fully exciting one in others. What can 
you expect from it? 

You will go through several stages 
in the experience, stages which may 
be seen as analogous to the etiology 
of a disease. (Thanks to Kalervo 
Oberg for this analogy.) In Stage One 
everything will be wonderful, fasci- 
nating, and fulfilling. This stage may 
last from a few days to a few months. 
The country to which you go will 
seem much more "advanced" than you 
had expected it to be, the people 
more "interesting" and intelligent, and 
you will be amazed that neither they 
nor previous carriers of American 
ways have seen how to apply some 
straightforward "know-how" to the 
solution of a dozen problems that are 
right there before your eyes. You will 
wish you could rush home for a few 
days and explain to the folks here how 
distorted have been the newspaper 
accounts, the television reports, the 
white papers about that country. You 
can come back at this point, your 
suitcases loaded with color slides and 



curios. Half the civic clubs in town 
and two-thirds of the women's mission- 
ary groups will invite you to speak, 
hear you eagerly, and nod grey heads 
in agreement with what you say. But 
if you want culture shock, you won't 
have had it yet. Stick around. 

You won't recognize it when it 
comes, nor will you know when you 
enter Stage Two of your experience 
abroad. Others, however, will notice 
that you are beginning to be irritable 
more often, to wash your hands every 
time you touch something "native," 
to stare blankly into a distant corner 
of the room, to complain of being 
cheated on the bus or in the market, 
to want always to be accompanied by 
an American whenever you go out. 
From your standpoint it will just seem 
as if there are more noisy people, 
smelly places, purposeless delays, sense- 
less regulations, than any intelligent 
group of people could ever have 
dreamed of inventing, much less en- 
during. Conditions there will never 
change, you'll say, so why should you 
change to fit the miserable conditions? 
You will long for a radio or T.V. 
station which airs familiar music and 
short commercials, as you lunge at the 
"off" button on a set from which two 
men and a woman try to shout each 
other down during five minutes of 
commercials about mispronounced 
Colgate, mispronounced R.C.A. Vic- 
tor, and mispronounced Coca-Cola. 
"Kawka-Wawlah be damned," you 
think, "what I want is a man who 
can say 'let's have a Coke' and relax 
about it." And why don't "They" 
learn to brew coffee right, bake pies 
with crusts, speak in normal tones, 
and make sense when they say any- 
thing? You come to hate them with 
a passion, and only wish you could 
tell them so. You fall into a pattern 
of using stereotypes to describe the 
"locals" to fellow-Americans. This 
helps to preserve your self-respect, 



itUMNAE QUARTERLY / SPRING 1%6 



and therefore has some value, but it 
doesn't help, of course, toward under- 
standing the country or its culture. 

Maybe you should leave at this 
point, while ulcers are still only a 
threat and not an actuality. You feel 
you may have a nervous breakdown if 
you stay, and then you will have to 
leave anyhow. But /'/ you stay and 
don't come unglued, things are bound 
to improve. 

From this point on, as you enter 
Stage Three of culture shock, you are 
on the mend. This stage is still difficult, 
but it may be handled in a number 
of ways. It would be senseless to 
recommend any one of them now, for 
the path you cut through the maze 
must be your own, must fit you and 
the place. You could, for example, 
intellectualize the situation, take a 
rather superior attitude toward the 
whole thing, and say with convincing 
suaveness, "It's really just a matter 
of thinking things through, analyzing 
the odds and alternatives, and then 
beating the system within its own 
rules. Just play it nice and cool!" Or 
you could grit your teeth and hiss to 
a confidant as an already acclimated 
American walks by. "If that fink 
learned how to get along in this 
stupid country I know darn well / 
can make it." Or you can smile a 
little crooked smile, choke back a 
tear, and say in a brave and soft little 
voice, "It's my Cross, and I am Grate- 
ful that I was Chosen to be Tested." 
During this stage your sense of 
humor begins to reappear, and the 
sheer ridiculousness of some of the 
very real problems you face begins 
to be apparent. Furthermore, you can 
always look back at the poor new- 
comers, still blundering through Stages 
One and Two, and be glad you aren't 
in that shape. Helping these poor 
devils does wonders for your assur- 
ance that you can already say a lot. 
understand a great deal, and move 
around with relative freedom. 

It would be a shame if you left 
Brazil, or Nigeria, or Thailand, dur- 
ing the Third Stage of culture shock. 
From here you move quickly into 
Stage Four, when culture shock is as 
nearly cured as it can ever become. 
In Stage Four you see the ways of 
the people as neither quaint nor threat- 
ening but just another means of cop- 
ing with problems day by day. You 
solve your own problems within this 
setting, shifting rather smoothly from 
the American to the local perspective 
on the world and back again. You're 
not quite bicultural (perhaps one can- 
not and should not be) but now 
you are able not only to accept their 
customs and foods and games but also 
to actually enjoy the freedom and 
privilege of fully sharing them. For 
a long time you will fail to grasp 



some of the meanings within and 
behind what is said to you. You will 
still feel apprehensive in some situa- 
tions, sometimes because you do not 
understand them, and sometimes be- 
cause you do. You will occasionally 
recognize that there are good reasons 
to be apprehensive, which the new- 
comer does not fathom. But you are 
well enough acclimated to do what 
needs to be done, to assume your 
share of your group's and the commu- 
nity's responsibilities, and to originate 
action which is appropriate within 
your new home place. 

And once you reach this stage you 
will always retain a great deal of 
love for that country and its people. 

At this moment I can almost hear 
some of you saying to yourselves, 
"Tumblin has finally flipped! Why 
should I go through all of that for 
what's likely to be in it for me?" 
You are probably right! Most people 
couldn't take the experience, much 
less profit from it. Besides, there's a 
limit to how many persons in a state 
of culture shock a community or 
country can absorb! Beyond a cer- 
tain point, gaggles of American girls 
living in any given area would just 
clutter up the place and create all 
kinds of trouble. So if you really don't 
want to go, for heaven's sake don't. 
You can test your mettle in all sorts 
of ways within twenty-five hundred 
yards of this auditorium for that mat- 
ter. Furthermore, you will be with the 
majority if you stay. In the past five 
years, no more than fifteen of the six 
hundred and forty graduates of this 
college have actually tried what I am 
proposing. 

If you want to join this minority 
group, how could you do it? Miss 
lone Murphy's Vocational Guidance 
office, I noticed last week, has a book- 
let listing dozens of opportunities 
for teaching in overseas schools for 
military dependents abroad, children 
of religious and commercial personnel, 
and a number of private schools. 
Teachers of English conversation are 
in demand in many parts of the world. 
The United States Information Ser- 
vice, State Department, A.I.D. pro- 
grams, and the American Red Cross 
offer employment overseas. The Peace 
Corps, as will be pointed out by its 
Director when he visits this campus 
later this month, needs people like you, 
Presbyterians, Methodists, Baptists, 
and possibly other churches I don't 
know of, have two-year appointments 
in their mission programs. Germany 
and Switzerland are importing labor- 
ers, male and female, for factory 
work. These suggestions are only a 
good beginning. 

In all fairness, it should be said 
that the pay in most of these jobs is 
terrible. You should also realize that 



although they may congratulate yi 
many of your classmates and kinfi 
may really feel that you are going c 
of your mind for trying it. This is t 
fortunate, but not incapacitating. P 
venturous people learn to organ 
their lives in unusual ways which ; 
nevertheless satisfying to themselv 
and that's enough. 

On the credit side of the questic 
such an experience would be a tr 
adventure, and adventures are getti 
scarce these days. I listen constantly 
young-old people, or old-young peop 
moaning for the good old days whH 
everyone wasn't protected by the goi 
ernment, things weren't soft and eas 
and rugged competition separated t! 
little girls from the whole women.' 
try to convince them that they c;i 
pick their time in history, turn tl 
calendar back on board a boat or j 
plane, and experiment with the pa> 
if they really want to. In Brazil alor. 
they can live in any century from til 
present one on back to 1000 B.C., 
they pick the right place and pay trl 
price of settling there. But most ( 
these people either don't believe me c 
don't have the courage to test it — c 
don't really mean what they say. Fc 
some of you it would be an adventui 
from which you would be drawin 
income for the rest of your life. (An 
for years you could turn the tables o 
your parents by boring them wit 
stories of how rough it was "out there 
when you were young and brave.) 
It might be said in passing tha 
you may be able to serve somi 
people or a good cause, and there i 
satisfaction in that. One of the greates 
benefits will come upon returning ti 
our country and seeing it from point 
of view you had never imagined be 
fore. You will see it uglier in som< 
previously undetected ways. But in thf 
light of new values you will also fine 
it more beautiful than you had evei 
seen it before. You will learn primar- 
ily about life in a society that operate; 
by a different set of rules, and you wil 
broaden your own perspectives in way; 
which will forever block you from 
saying "it's human nature" when you 
are talking of behavior and values 
which are peculiar to Americans oi 
your social stratum. Having learned 
it as it can best be learned, through 
living it, you can come home to do 
missionary work among some of your 
complacent and provincial townsmen. 
And do come back and tell us at this 
college what is provincial about us, 
after you have become less provincial 
yourself. Tell us also, please, what 
was done here by design and accident 
that helped you to survive culture 
shock and derive benefit from the 
experience, and we will try to modify 
our offerings to later students so as to 
make them better able to cope. 



THE AGNES SCOTT 



•^ 






TT 






No memory of Alma Mater 

older than a year or so 

is likely to bear much resemblance 

to today's college or university. 

Which, in our fast-moving society, 

is precisely as it should be, 

if higher education is . . . 

To Keep Pace 
with America 



W 

T HAT ( 



hat on earth is going on, there? 

Across the land, alumni and alumnae are asking 
that question about their alma maters. Most of 
America's colleges and universities are changing 
rapidly, and some of them drastically. Alumni and 
alumnae, taught for years to be loyal to good old 
Siwash and to be sentimental about its history and 
traditions, are puzzled or outraged. 

And they are not the only ones making anguished 
responses to the new developments on the nation's 
campuses. 

From a student in Texas: "The professors care less 
and less about teaching. They don't grade our papers 
or exams any more, and they turn over the discus- 
sion sections of their classes to graduate students. 
Why can't we have mind-to-mind combat?" 

From a university administrator in Michigan: 
"The faculty and students treat this place more like 
a bus terminal every year. They come and go as they 
never did before." 

From a professor at a college in Pennsylvania: 
"The present crop of students? They're the brightest 
ever. They're also the most arrogant, cynical, dis- 
respectful, ungrateful, and intense group I've taught 
in 30 years." 



From a student in Ohio: "The whole bit on this 
campus now is about 'the needs of society,' 'the 
needs of the international situation,' 'the needs of 
the ibm system.' What about my needs?" 

From the dean of a college in Massachusetts: 
"Everything historic and sacred, everything built by 
2,000 years of civilization, suddenly seems old hat. 
Wisdom now consists in being up-to-the-minute." 

From a professor in New Jersey: "So help me, I 
only have time to read about 10 books a year, now. 
I'm always behind." 

From a professor at a college for women in 
Virginia: "What's happening to good manners? 
And good taste? And decent dress? Are we entering 
a new age of the slob?" 

From a trustee of a university in Rhode Island: 
"They all want us to care for and support our institu- 
tion, when they themselves don't give a hoot." 

From an alumnus of a college in California: "No 
one seems to have time for friendship, good humor, 
and fun, now. The students don't even sing, any 
more. Why, most of them don't know the college 
songs." 

What is happening at America's colleges and 
universities to cause such comments? 



I 



Today^s colleges and universitiA 



-t began around 1 950 — silently, unnoticed. The 
signs were little ones, seemingly unconnected. Sud- 
denly the number of books published began to soar. 
That year Congress established a National Science 
Foundation to promote scientific progress through 
education and basic research. College enrollments, 
swollen by returned war veterans with G.I. Bill 
benefits, refused to return to "normal"; instead, they 
began to rise sharply. Industry began to expand its 
research facilities significantly, raiding the colleges 
and graduate schools for brainy talent. Faculty 
salaries, at their lowest since the 1930's in terms of 
real income, began to inch up at the leading col- 
leges. China, the most populous nation in the world, 
fell to the Communists, only a short time after several 
Eastern European nations were seized by Com- 
munist coups d'etat; and, aided by support from 
several philanthropic foundations, there was a rush 
to study Communism, military problems and 
weapons, the Orient, and underdeveloped countries. 

Now, 15 years later, we have begun to compre- 
hend what started then. The United States, locked 
in a Cold War that may drag on for half a century, 
has entered a new era of rapid and unrelenting 
change. The nation continues to enjoy many of the 
benefits of peace, but it is forced to adopt much of 
the urgency and pressure of wartime. To meet the 
bold challenges from outside, Americans have had 
to transform many of their nation's habits and in- 
stitutions. 

The biggest change has been in the rate of change 
itself. 

Life has always changed. But never in the history 
of the world has it changed with such rapidity as it 
does now. Scientist J. Robert Oppenheimer recently 
observed: "One thing that is new is the prevalence of 
newness, the changing scale and scope of change it- 
self, so that the world alters as we walk in it, so that 
the years of a man's life measure not some small 
growth or rearrangement or modification of what he 
learned in childhood, but a great upheaval." 

Psychiatrist Erik Erikson has put it thus: "To- 
day, men over 50 owe their identity as individu- 
als, as citizens, and as professional workers to a 
period when change had a different quality and 






when a dominant view of the world was one 
a one-way extension into a future of prosperi 
progress, and reason. If they rebelled, they did 
against details of this firm trend and often only : 
the sake of what they thought were even firn 
ones. They learned to respond to the periodic ch. 
lenge of war and revolution by reasserting the i 
terrupted trend toward normalcy. What has chan; 
in the meantime is, above all, the character 
change itself." 

This new pace of change, which is not likely 
slow down soon, has begun to affect every facet 
American life. In our vocabulary, people now spe, 
of being "on the move," of "running around," at 
of "go, go, go." In our politics, we are witnessh 
a major realignment of the two-party system. Edit 
Max Ways of Fortune magazine has said, "Mc 
American political and social issues today arise o; 
of a concern over the pace and quality of change 
In our morality, many are becoming more "cool, 
or uncommitted. If life changes swiftly, many thir 
it wise not to get too attached or devoted to ar. 
particular set of beliefs or hierarchy of values. 







Copyright 1066 by Editorial Projictsjor Education, Inc. 



usy faculties, serious students, and hard courses 



Df all American institutions, that which is most 
)foundly affected by the new tempo of radical 
inge is the school. And, although all levels of 
.ooling are feeling the pressure to change, those 
)bably feeling it the most are our colleges and 
iversities. 



\ 



t the heart of America's shift to a new 
: of constant change is a revolution in the role 
d nature of higher education. Increasingly, all of 
live in a society shaped by our colleges and 
iversities. 

From the campuses has come the expertise to 
vel to the moon, to crack the genetic code, and 
develop computers that calculate as fast as light. 
3m the campuses has come new information 
Dut Africa's resources, Latin-American econom- 
, and Oriental politics. In the past 15 years, col- 
e and university scholars have produced a dozen 




or more accurate translations of the Bible, more 
than were produced in the past 15 centuries. Uni- 
versity researchers have helped virtually to wipe 
out three of the nation's worst diseases: malaria, 
tuberculosis, and polio. The chief work in art and 
music, outside of a few large cities, is now being 
done in our colleges and universities. And profound 
concern for the U.S. racial situation, for U.S. for- 
eign policy, for the problems of increasing urbanism, 
and for new religious forms is now being expressed 
by students and professors inside the academies 
of higher learning. 

As American colleges and universities have been 
instrumental in creating a new world of whirlwind 
change, so have they themselves been subjected to 
unprecedented pressures to change. They are differ- 
ent places from what they were 15 years ago — in 
some cases almost unrecognizably different. The 
faculties are busier, the students more serious, and 
the courses harder. The campuses gleam with new 
buildings. While the shady-grove and paneled- 
library colleges used to spend nearly all of their 
time teaching the young, they have now been 
burdened with an array of new duties. 

Clark Kerr, president of the University of Cali- 
fornia, has put the new situation succinctly: "The 
university has become a prime instrument of na- 
tional purpose. This is new. This is the essence of 
the transformation now engulfing our universities." 

The colleges have always assisted the national 
purpose by helping to produce better clergymen, 
farmers, lawyers, businessmen, doctors, and teach- 
ers. Through athletics, through religious and moral 
guidance, and through fairly demanding academic 
work, particularly in history and literature, the 
colleges have helped to keep a sizable portion of 
the men who have ruled America rugged, reason- 
ably upright and public-spirited, and informed and 
sensible. The problem of an effete, selfish, or igno- 
rant upper class that plagues certain other nations 
has largely been avoided in the United States. 

But never before have the colleges and universities 
been expected to fulfill so many dreams and projects 
of the American people. Will we outdistance the 
Russians in the space race? It depends on the caliber 



of scientists and engineers that our universities pro- 
duce. Will we find a cure for cancer, for arthritis, 
for the common cold? It depends upon the faculties 
and the graduates of our medical schools. Will we 
stop the Chinese drive for world dominion? It de- 
pends heavily on the political experts the universi- 
ties turn out and on the military weapons that 
university research helps develop. Will we be able 
to maintain our high standard of living and to avoid 
depressions? It depends upon whether the universi- 
ties can supply business and government with in- 
ventive, imaginative, farsighted persons and ideas. 
Will we be able to keep human values alive in our 
machine-filled world? Look to college philosophers 
and poets. Everyone, it seems — from the impover- 
ished but aspiring Negro to the mother who wants 
her children to be emotionally healthy — sees the col- 
lege and the university as a deliverer, today. 

Thus it is no exaggeration to say that colleges and 
universities have become one of our greatest re- 
sources in the cold war, and one of our greatest 
assets in the uncertain peace. America's schools 
have taken a new place at the center of society. 
Ernest Sirluck, dean of graduate studies at the 
University of Toronto, has said: "The calamities of 
recent history have undermined the prestige and 
authority of what used to be the great central insti- 
tutions of society. . . . Many people have turned to 
the universities ... in the hope of finding, through 
them, a renewed or substitute authority in life." 



T 

-J^- HE 



he new pressures to serve the nation in 
an ever-expanding variety of ways have wrought a 
stunning transformation in most American colleges 
and universities. 

For one thing, they look different, compared with 
15 years ago. Since 1950, American colleges and 
universities have spent about $16.5 billion on new 
buildings. One third of the entire higher education 
plant in the United States is less than 15 years old. 
More than 180 completely new campuses are now 
being built or planned. 

Scarcely a college has not added at least one 
building to its plant; most have added three, four, 
or more. (Science buildings, libraries, and dormi- 
tories have been the most desperately needed addi- 



New responsibilities 
are transforming 
once-quiet campuses 



tions.) Their architecture and placement have 
moved some alumni and students to howls of pro- 
test, and others to expressions of awe and delight. 

The new construction is required largely because 
of the startling growth in the number of young 
people wanting to go to college. In 1950, there 
were about 2.2 million undergraduates, or roughly 
18 percent of all Americans between 18 and 21 
years of age. This academic year, 1965-66, there 
are about 5.4 million undergraduates — a whopping 
30 percent of the 18-21 age group. * The total num- 
ber of college students in the United States has 
more than doubled in a mere decade and a half. 

As two officials of the American Council on Edu- 
cation pointed out, not long ago: "It is apparent 
that a permanent revolution in collegiate patterns 
has occurred, and that higher education has be- 
come and will continue to be the common training 
ground for American adult life, rather than the 
province of a small, select portion of society." 

Of today's 5.4 million undergraduates, one in 
every five attends a kind of college that barely 
existed before World War II — the junior, or com- 
munity, college. Such colleges now comprise nearly 
one third of America's 2,200 institutions of higher 
education. In California, where community colleges 
have become an integral part of the higher educa- 
tion scene, 84 of every 100 freshmen and sophomores 
last year were enrolled in this kind of institution. By 
1975, estimates the U.S. Office of Education, one 
in every two students, nationally, will attend a 
two-year college. 

Graduate schools are growing almost as fast. 



*The percentage is sometimes quoted as being much higher be- 
cause it is assumed that nearly all undergraduates are in the 18-21 
bracket. Actually only 68 percent of all college students are in that 
age category. Three percent are under 18; 29 percent are over 21. 



Higher education's 
patterns are changing; 
so are its leaders 



While only 1 1 percent of America's college gradu- 
ates went on to graduate work in 1950, about 25 
percent will do so after their commencement in 
1966. At one institution, over 85 percent of the 
recipients of bachelor's degrees now continue their 
education at graduate and professional schools. 
Some institutions, once regarded primarily as under- 
graduate schools, now have more graduate students 
than undergraduates. Across America, another phe- 
nomenon has occurred: numerous state colleges 
have added graduate schools and become uni- 
versities. 

There are also dramatic shifts taking place among 
the various kinds of colleges. It is often forgotten 
that 877, or 40 percent, of America's colleges and 
universities are related, in one way or another, with 
religious denominations (Protestant, 484; Catholic, 
366; others, 27). But the percentage of the nation's 
students that the church-related institutions enroll 
has been dropping fast; last year they had 950,000 
undergraduates, or only 18 percent of the total. 
Sixty-nine of the church-related colleges have fewer 
than 100 students. Twenty percent lack accredita- 
tion, and another 30 percent are considered to be 
academically marginal. Partially this is because 
they have been unable to find adequate financial 
support. A Danforth Foundation commission on 
church colleges and universities noted last spring: 
"The irresponsibility of American churches in pro- 
viding for their institutions is deplorable. The aver- 
age contribution of churches to their colleges is only 
12.8 percent of their operating budgets." 

Church-related colleges have had to contend 
with a growing secularization in American life, with 
the increasing difficulty of locating scholars with a 
religious commitment, and with bad planning from 
their sponsoring church groups. About planning, 
the Danforth Commission report observed: "No one 




can justify the operation of four Presbyterian col 
leges in Iowa, three Methodist colleges in Indiana 
five United Presbyterian institutions in Missouri 
nine Methodist colleges in North Carolina (includ 
ing two brand new ones), and three Roman Catholid 
colleges for women in Milwaukee." 

Another important shift among the colleges ii 
the changing position of private institutions, as pub 
lie institutions grow in size and number at a mucr 
faster rate. In 1950, 50 percent of all students were 
enrolled in private colleges; this year, the private 
colleges' share is only 33 percent. By 1975, fewei 
than 25 percent of all students are expected to be 




nrolled in the non-public colleges and universities. 
Other changes are evident: More and more stu- 
ents prefer urban colleges and universities to rural 
nes; now, for example, with more than 400,000 
tudents in her colleges and universities, America's 
reatest college town is metropolitan New York. 
Coeducation is gaining in relation to the all-men's 
nd the all-women's colleges. And many predomi- 
lantly Negro colleges have begun to worry about 
heir future. The best Negro students are sought 
ifter by many leading colleges and universities, and 
:ach year more and more Negroes enroll at inte- 
grated institutions. Precise figures are hard to come 



by, but 15 years ago there were roughly 120,000 
Negroes in college, 70 percent of them in predomi- 
nantly Negro institutions; last year, according to 
Whitney Young, Jr., executive director of the 
National Urban League, there were 220,000 Ne- 
groes in college, but only 40 percent at predomi- 
nantly Negro institutions. 



T 



he remarkable growth in the number of 
students going to college and the shifting patterns 
of college attendance have had great impact on the 
administrators of the colleges and universities. They 
have become, at many institutions, a new breed 
of men. 

Not too long ago, many college and university 
presidents taught a course or two, wrote important 
papers on higher education as well as articles and 
books in their fields of scholarship, knew most of 
the faculty intimately, attended alumni reunions, 
and spoke with heartiness and wit at student din- 
ners, Rotary meetings, and football rallies. Now 
many presidents are preoccupied with planning 
their schools' growth and with the crushing job of 
finding the funds to make such growth possible. 

Many a college or university president today is, 
above all else, a fund-raiser. If he is head of a pri- 
vate institution, he spends great amounts of time 
searching for individual and corporate donors; if he 
leads a public institution, he adds the task of legis- 
lative relations, for it is from the legislature that the 
bulk of his financial support must come. 

With much of the rest of his time, he is involved 
in economic planning, architectural design, person- 
nel recruitment for his faculty and staff, and curric- 
ulum changes. (Curriculurns have been changing 
almost as substantially as the physical facilities, 
because the explosion in knowledge has been as 
sizable as the explosion in college admissions. Whole 
new fields such as biophysics and mathematical 
economics have sprung up; traditional fields have 
expanded to include new topics such as comparative 
ethnic music and the history of film; and topics 
that once were touched on lightly, such as Oriental 
studies or oceanography, now require extended 
treatment.) 

To cope with his vastly enlarged duties, the mod- 



Many professors are research-minded specialist 



em college or university president has often had to 
double or triple his administrative staff since 1950. 
Positions that never existed before at most institu- 
tions, such as campus architects, computer pro- 
grammers, government liaison officials, and deans 
of financial aid, have sprung up. The number of 
institutions holding membership in the American 
College Public Relations Association, to cite only 
one example, has risen from 591 in 1950 to more 
than 1,000 this year— including nearly 3,000 indi- 
vidual workers in the public relations and fund- 
raising field. 

A whole new profession, that of the college "de- 
velopment officer," has virtually been created in 
the past 1 5 years to help the president, who is usu- 
ally a transplanted scholar, with the twin problems 
of institutional growth and fund-raising. According 
to Eldredge Hiller, executive director of the Ameri- 
can Association of Fund-Raising Counsel, "In 1950 
very few colleges and universities, except those in 
the Ivy League and scattered wealthy institutions, 
had directors or vice presidents of development. 
Now there are very few institutions of higher learn- 
ing that do not." In addition, many schools that 
have been faced with the necessity of special de- 
velopment projects or huge capital campaigns have 
sought expertise and temporary personnel from out- 
side development consultants. The number of major 
firms in this field has increased from 10 to 26 since 
1950, and virtually every firm's staff has grown 
dramatically over the years. 

Many alumni, faculty members, and students 
who have watched the president's suite of offices 
expand have decried the "growing bureaucracy." 
What was once "old President Doe" is now "The 
Administration," assailed on all sides as a driving, 
impersonal, remote organization whose purposes 
and procedures are largely alien to the traditional 
world of academe. 

No doubt there is some truth to such charges. In 
their pursuit of dollars to raise faculty salaries and 
to pay for better facilities, a number of top officials 
at America's colleges and universities have had 
insufficient time for educational problems, and some 
have been more concerned with business efficiency 



than with producing intelligent, sensible humar 
beings. However, no one has yet suggested how 
"prexy" can be his old, sweet, leisurely, scholarly 
self and also a dynamic, farsighted administratoi 
who can successfully meet the new challenges oi 
unprecedented, radical, and constant change. 

One president in the Midwest recently said: "The 
engineering faculty wants a nuclear reactor. The 
arts faculty needs a new theater. The students want 
new dormitories and a bigger psychiatric consulting 
office. The alumni want a better faculty and a new 
gymnasium. And they all expect me to produce 
these out of a single office with one secretary and a 
small filing cabinet, while maintaining friendly con 
tacts with them all. I need a magic lantern." 

Another president, at a small college in New 
England, said: "The faculty and students claimi 
they don't see much of me any more. Some have 
become vituperative and others have wondered if I 
really still care about them and the learning process. 
I was a teacher for 18 years. I miss them — and my 
scholarly work — terribly." 



T 

-^■k^- HE 



he role and pace of the professors havi 
changed almost as much as the administrators' 
not more, in the new period of rapid growth and! 
radical change. 

For the most part, scholars are no longer regarded 
as ivory-tower dreamers, divorced from society. 
They are now important, even indispensable, men. 
and women, holding keys to international security, 
economic growth, better health, and cultural ex-| 
cellence. For the first time in decades, most of their 
salaries are approaching respectability. (The na-| 
tional average of faculty salaries has risen from 
$5,311 in 1950 to $9,317 in 1965, according to a 
survey conducted by the American Association ofj 
University Professors.) The best of them are pur- 
sued by business, government, and other colleges. 
They travel frequently to speak at national con- 
ferences on modern music or contemporary urban 




problems, and to international conferences on par- 
ticle physics or literature. 

In the classroom, they are seldom the professors of 
the past: the witty, cultured gentlemen and ladies — 
or tedious pedants — who know Greek, Latin, French, 
literature, art, music, and history fairly well. They 
are now earnest, expert specialists who know alge- 
braic geometry or international monetary economics 
— and not much more than that — exceedingly well. 
Sensing America's needs, a growing number of 
them are attracted to research, and many prefer it 
to teaching. And those who are not attracted are 
often pushed by an academic "rating system" 
which, in effect, gives its highest rewards and pro- 
motions to people who conduct research and write 
about the results they achieve. "Publish or perish" 
is the professors' succinct, if somewhat overstated, 
way of describing how the system operates. 

Since many of the scholars — and especially the 
youngest instructors — are more dedicated and "fo- 
cused" than their predecessors of yesteryear, the 
allegiance of professors has to a large degree shifted 
from their college and university to their academic 
discipline. A radio-astronomer first, a Siwash pro- 
fessor second, might be a fair way of putting it. 

There is much talk about giving control of the 
universities back to the faculties, but there are strong 
indications that, when the opportunity is offered, 
the faculty members don't want it. Academic deci- 
sion-making involves committee work, elaborate in- 
vestigations, and lengthy deliberations — time away 
from their laboratories and books. Besides, many 
professors fully expect to move soon, to another 
college or to industry or government, so why bother 
about the curriculum or rules of student conduct? 
Then, too, some of them plead an inability to take 
part in broad decision-making since they are expert 
in only one limited area. "I'm a geologist," said one 
professor in the West. "What would I know about 
admissions policies or student demonstrations?" 

Professors have had to narrow their scholarly in- 
terests chiefly because knowledge has advanced to a 
point where it is no longer possible to master more 
than a tiny portion of it. Physicist Randall Whaley, 
who is now chancellor of the University of Missouri 
at Kansas City, has observed: "There is about 
100 times as much to know now as was avail- 
able in 1900. By the year 2000, there will be over 
1,000 times as much." (Since 1950 the number of 
scholarly periodicals has increased from 45,000 to 



95,000. In science alone, 55,000 journals, 60,000 
books, and 100,000 research monographs are pub- 
lished annually.) In such a situation, fragmentation 
seems inevitable. 

Probably the most frequently heard cry about 
professors nowadays, even at the smaller colleges, is 
that they are so research-happy that they neglect 
teaching. "Our present universities have ceased to be 
schools," one graduate student complained in the 
Harvard Educational Review last spring. Similar charges 
have stirred pulses at American colleges and uni- 
versities coast to coast, for the past few years. 

No one can dispute the assertion that research 
has grown. The fact is, it has been getting more and 
more attention since the end of the Nineteenth 
Century, when several of America's leading uni- 
versities tried to break away from the English col- 
lege tradition of training clergymen and gentlemen, 
primarily through the classics, and to move toward 
the German university tradition of rigorous scholar- 
ship and scientific inquiry. But research has pro- 
ceeded at runaway speed since 1950, when the 
Federal Government, for military, political, eco- 
nomic, and public-health reasons, decided to sup- 
port scientific and technological research in a major 
way. In 1951 the Federal Government spent $295 
million in the colleges and universities for research 
and development. By 1965 that figure had grown 
to $1.7 billion. During the same period, private 
philanthropic foundations also increased their sup- 
port substantially. 

At bottom, the new emphasis on research is due 
to the university's becoming "a prime instrument 
of national purpose," one of the nation's chief means 
of maintaining supremacy in a long-haul cold war. 
The emphasis is not likely to be lessened. And more 
and more colleges and universities will feel its 
effects. 



B 



ut what about education— the teaching 
of young people— that has traditionally been the 
basic aim of our institutions of higher learning? 

Many scholars contend, as one university presi- 
dent put it, that "current research commitments 
are far more of a positive aid than a detriment to 
teaching," because they keep teachers vital and at 



The push to do research: 
Does it affect teaching? 



the forefront of knowledge. "No one engaged in re- 
search in his field is going to read decade-old lec- 
ture notes to his class, as many of the so-called 'great 
professors' of yesterday did," said a teacher at a uni- 
versity in Wisconsin. 

Others, however, see grave problems resulting; 
from the great emphasis on research. For one thing, 
they argue, research causes professors to spend less 
time with students. It also introduces a disturbing, 
note of competitiveness among the faculty. One 
physicist has put it this way: 

"I think my professional field of physics is getting 
too hectic, too overcrowded; there is too much pres- 
sure for my taste. . . . Research is done under tre- 
mendous pressure because there are so many people 
after the same problem that one cannot afford to 
relax. If you are working on something which 10 
other groups are working on at the same time, and 
you take a week's vacation, the others beat you 
and publish first. So it is a mad race." 

Heavy research, others argue, may cause pro- 
fessors to concentrate narrowly on their discipline 
and to see their students largely in relation to it 
alone. Numerous observers have pointed to the 
professors' shift to more demanding instruction, but 1 
also to their more technical, pedantic teaching. 
They say the emphasis in teaching may be moving 
from broad understanding to factual knowledge, 
from community and world problems to each disci- 
pline's tasks, from the releasing of young people's 
minds to the cramming of their minds with the stuff 
of each subject. A professor in Louisiana has said, I 
"In modern college teaching there is much more 
of the 'how' than the 'why.' Values and fundamen- 
tals are too interdisciplinary." 

And, say the critics, research focuses attention on 
the new, on the frontiers of knowledge, and tends to 
forget the history of a subject or the tradition of 
intellectual inquiry. This has wrought havoc with 
liberal arts education, which seeks to introduce 
young people to the modes, the achievements, the 



DRAWINGS BY ARNO STERNGLASS 




consequences, and the difficulties of intellectual in- 
quiry in Western civilization. Professor Maure 
Goldschmidt, of Oregon's Reed College, has said: 

"The job of a liberal arts college is to pass on 
the heritage, not to push the frontiers. Once you get 
into the competitive research market, the demands 
become incompatible with good teaching." 

Another professor, at a university in Florida, has 
said: 

"Our colleges are supposed to train intelligent 
citizens who will use knowledge wisely, not just 
intellectual drones. To do this, the colleges must 
convey to students a sense of where we've come 
from, where we are now, and where we are going — 
as well as what it all means — and not just inform 
them of the current problems of research in each 
field." 



Somewhat despairingly, Professor Jacques Earzun 
recently wrote: 

"Nowadays the only true believers in the liberal 
arts tradition are the men of business. They really 
prefer general intelligence, literacy, and adapt- 
ability. They know, in the first place, that the con- 
ditions of their work change so rapidly that no col- 
lege courses can prepare for them. And they also 
know how often men in mid-career suddenly feel 
that their work is not enough to sustain their 
spirits." 

Many college and university teachers readily ad- 
mit that they may have neglected, more than they 
should, the main job of educating the young. But 
they just as readily point out that their role is 
changing, that the rate of accumulation of knowl- 
edge is accelerating madly, and that they are ex- 
tremely busy and divided individuals. They also 
note that it is through research that more money, 
glory, prestige, and promotions are best attained 
in their profession. 

For some scholars, research is also where the 
highest excitement and promise in education are to 
be found. "With knowledge increasing so rapidly, 
research is the only way to assure a teacher that 
he is keeping ahead, that he is aware of the really 
new and important things in his field, that he can be 
an effective teacher of the next generation," says one 
advocate of research-raw-instruction. And, for some, 
research is the best way they know to serve the 
nation. "Aren't new ideas, more information, and 
new discoveries most important to the United States 
if we are to remain free and prosperous?" asks a pro- 
fessor in the Southwest. "We're in a protracted war 
with nations that have sworn to bury us." 






. he students, of course, are perplexed by 
the new academic scene. 

They arrive at college having read the catalogues 
and brochures with their decade-old paragraphs 
about "the importance of each individual" and 
"the many student-faculty relationships"— and hav- 
ing heard from alumni some rosy stories about the 
leisurely, friendly, pre-war days at Quadrangle U. 
On some campuses, the reality almost lives up to 
the expectations. But on others, the students are 





The students react 
to ^the system" with 
fierce independence 



dismayed to discover that they are treated as merely 
parts of another class (unless they are geniuses, star 
athletes, or troublemakers), and that the faculty 
and deans are extremely busy. For administrators, 
faculty, and alumni, at least, accommodating to the 
new world of radical change has been an evolu- 
tionary process, to which they have had a chance to 
adjust somewhat gradually; to the students, arriving 
fresh each year, it comes as a severe shock. 

Forced to look after themselves and gather broad 
understanding outside of their classes, they form 
their own community life, with their own values 
and methods of self-discovery. Piqued by apparent 
adult indifference and cut off from regular contacts 
with grown-up dilemmas, they tend to become more 
outspoken, more irresponsible, more independent. 
Since the amount of financial aid for students has 
tripled since 1950, and since the current condition 
of American society is one of affluence, many stu- 
dents can be independent in expensive ways: twist 
parties in Florida, exotic cars, and huge record col- 
lections. They tend to become more sophisticated 
about those things that they are left to deal with on 
their own: travel, religion, recreation, sex, politics. 

Partly as a reaction to what they consider to be 
adult dedication to narrow, selfish pursuits, and 
partly in imitation of their professors, they have 
become more international-minded and socially 
conscious. Possibly one in 10 students in some 
colleges works off-campus in community service 
projects — tutoring the poor, fixing up slum dwellings, 
or singing and acting for local charities. To the 
consternation of many adults, some students have 
become a force for social change, far away from 
their colleges, through the Peace Corps in Bolivia 
or a picket line in another state. Pressured to be 
brighter than any previous generation, they fight to 



feel as useful as any previous generation. A student 
from Iowa said: ''I don't want to study, study, 
study, just to fill a hole in some government or 
industrial bureaucracy." 

The students want to work out a new style of 
academic life, just as administrators and faculty 
members are doing; but they don't know quite 
how, as yet. They are burying the rah-rah stuff, but 
what is to take its place? They protest vociferously 
against whatever they don't like, but they have no 
program of reform. Restless, an increasing number 
of them change colleges at least once during their 
undergraduate careers. They are like the two char- 
acters in Jack Kerouac's On the Road. "We got to 



go and never stop till we get there," says one. 
"Where are we going, man?" asks the other. "I 
don't know, but we gotta go," is the answer. 

As with any group in swift transition, the students I 
are often painfully confused and contradictory. A 
Newsweek poll last year that asked students whom 
they admired most found that many said "Nobody" 
or gave names like Y. A. Tittle or Joan Baez. It is 
no longer rare to find students on some campuses 
dressed in an Ivy League button-down shirt, farm- 
er's dungarees, a French beret, and a Roman beard 
— all at once. They argue against large bureaucra- 
cies, but most turn to the industrial giants, not to 
smaller companies or their own business ventures, 



&wSG*-{fe) 




The alumni lament: We don't recognize the place 



when they look for jobs after graduation. They are 
critical of religion, but they desperately seek people, 
courses, and experiences that can reveal some mean- 
ing to them. An instructor at a university in Con- 
necticut says: "The chapel is fairly empty, but the 
religion courses are bulging with students." 

Caught in the rapids of powerful change, and 
left with only their own resources to deal with the 
rush, the students tend to feel helpless — often too 
much so. Sociologist David Riesman has noted: 
"The students know that there are many decisions 
out of their conceivable control, decisions upon 
which their lives and fortunes truly. depend. But . . . 
this truth, this insight, is over-generalized, and, 
being believed, it becomes more and more 'true'." 
Many students, as a result, have become grumblers 
and cynics, and some have preferred to withdraw 
into private pads or into early marriages. However, 
there are indications that some students are learning 
how to be effective — if only, so far, through the 
largely negative methods of disruption. 



JBL i 



,f the faculties and the students are per- 
plexed and groping, the alumni of many American 
colleges and universities are positively dazed. Every- 
thing they have revered for years seems to be crum- 
bling: college spirit, fraternities, good manners, 
freshman customs, colorful lectures, singing, humor 
magazines and reliable student newspapers, long 
talks and walks with professors, daily chapel, din- 
ners by candlelight in formal dress, reunions that 
are fun. As one alumnus in Tennessee said, "They 
keep asking me to give money to a place I no longer 
recognize." Assaulted by many such remarks, one 
development officer in Massachusetts countered: 
"Look, alumni have seen America and the world 
change. When the old-timers went to school there 
were no television sets, few cars and fewer airplanes, 
no nuclear weapons, and no Red China. Why 
should colleges alone stand still? It's partly our 
fault, though. We traded too long on sentiment 



rather than information, allegiance, and purpose." 

What some alumni are beginning to realize is 
that they themselves are changing rapidly. Owing 
to the recent expansion of enrollments, nearly one 
half of all alumni and alumnae now are persons 
who have been graduated since 1950, when the 
period of accelerated change began. At a number 
of colleges, the song-and-revels homecomings have 
been turned into seminars and discussions about 
space travel or African politics. And at some institu- 
tions, alumni councils are being asked to advise on 
and, in some cases, to help determine parts of 
college policy. 

Dean David B. Truman, of New York's Columbia 
College, recently contended that alumni are going 
to have to learn to play an entirely new role vis-a-vis 
their alma maters. The increasingly mobile life of 
most scholars, many administrators, and a growing 
number of students, said the dean, means that, if 
anyone is to continue to have a deep concern for the 
whole life and future of each institution, "that focus 
increasingly must come from somewhere outside 
the once-collegial body of the faculty"— namely, 
from the alumni. 

However, even many alumni are finding it harder 
to develop strong attachments to one college or 
university. Consider the person who goes to, say, 
Davidson College in North Carolina, gets a law 
degree from the University of Virginia, marries a girl 
who was graduated from Wellesley, and settles in 
Albuquerque, New Mexico, where he pays taxes 
to help support the state university. (He pays Fed- 
eral taxes, too, part of which goes, through Govern- 
ment grants and contracts, to finance work at 
hundreds of other colleges and universities.) 

Probably the hardest thing of all for many alumni 
— indeed, for people, of all loyalties — to be recon- 
ciled to is that we live in a new era of radical change, 
a new time when almost nothing stands still for 
very long, and when continual change is the normal 
pattern of development. It is a terrible fact to face 
openly, for it requires that whole chunks of our 
traditional way of thinking and behaving be revised. 

Take the standard chore of defining the purpose 
of any particular college or university. Actually, 



some colleges and universities are now discarding 
the whole idea of statements of purpose, regarding 
their main task as one of remaining open-ended to 
accommodate the rapid changes. "There is no single 
'end' to be discovered," says California's Clark 
Kerr. Many administrators and professors agree. 
But American higher education is sufficiently vast 
and varied to house many — especially those at small 
colleges or church-related institutions— who differ 
with this view. 

What alumni and alumnae will have to find, as 
will everyone connected with higher education, are 
some new norms, some novel patterns of behavior 
by which to navigate in this new, constantly inno- 
vating society. 

For the alumni and alumnae, then, there must be 
an ever-fresh outlook. They must resist the inclina- 
tion to howl at every departure that their alma mater 
makes from the good old days. They need to see their 
alma mater and its role in a new light. To remind 
professors about their obligations to teach students 
in a stimulating and broadening manner may be a 
continuing task for alumni; but to ask the faculty 
to return to pre-1950 habits of leisurely teaching 
and counseling will be no service to the new aca- 
demic world. 

In order to maintain its greatness, to keep ahead, 
America must innovate. To innovate, it must con- 
duct research. Hence, research is here to stay. And 
so is the new seriousness of purpose and the intensity 



of academic work that today is so widespread on 
the campuses. 

Alumni could become a greater force for keeping 
alive at our universities and colleges a sense of joy, 
a knowledge of Western traditions and values, a 
quest for meaning, and a respect for individual per- 
sons, especially young persons, against the mounting 
pressures for sheer work, new findings, mere facts, 
and bureaucratic depersonalization. In a period of 
radical change, they could press for some enduring 
values amidst the flux. In a period focused on the 
new, they could remind the colleges of the Virtues 
of teaching about the past. 

But they can do this only if they recognize the ' 
existence of rapid change as a new factor in the life ' 
of the nation's colleges; if they ask, "How and what 
kind of change?" and not, " Why change?" 

"It isn't easy," said an alumnus from Utah. "It's 
like asking a farm boy to get used to riding an 
escalator all day long." 

One long-time observer, the editor of a distin- 
guished alumni magazine, has put it this way: 

"We — all of us — need an entirely new concept 
of higher education. Continuous, rapid change is 
now inevitable and normal. If we recognize that 
our colleges from now on will be perpetually chang- 
ing, but not in inexorable patterns, we shall be able 
to control the direction of change more intelligently. 
And we can learn to accept our colleges on a wholly 
new basis as centers of our loyalty and affection." 



The report on this and the preceding 15 
pages is the product of a cooperative en- 
deavor in which scores of schools, colleges, 
and universities are taking part. It was pre- 
pared under the direction of the group listed 
below, who form editorial projects for 
education, a non-profit organization associ- 
ated with the American Alumni Council. 



DENTON BEAL 

Carnegie Institute of Technology 

DAVID A. BURR 

The University of Oklahoma 

DAN ENDSLEY 

Stanford University 

MARALYN O. GILLESPIE 

Swarthmore College 

CHARLES M. HELMKEN 

American Alumni Council 



GEORGE C. KELLER 

Columbia University 

ALAN W. MAC CARTHY 

The University of Michigan 

JOHN I. MATTILL 

Massachusetts Institute of Technology 

KEN METZLER 

The University of Oregon 

RUSSELL OLIN 

The University of Colorado 

JOHN W. PATON 

Wesleyan University 



Naturally, in a report of such length and 
scope, not all statements necessarily reflect 
the views of all the persons involved, or of 
their institutions. Copyright © 1966 by Edi- 
torial Projects for Education, Inc. All rights 
reserved; no part may be reproduced without 
the express permission of the editors. Printed 
in U.S.A. 



ROBERT L. PAYTON 

Washington University 

ROBERT M. RHODES 

The University of Pennsylvania 

STANLEY SAPLIN 

New York University 

VERNE A. STADTMAN 

The University of California 

FREDERIC A. STOTT 

Phillips Academy, Andover 

FRANK J. TATE 

The Ohio State University 



CHARLES E. WIDMAYER 

Dartmouth College 

DOROTHY F. WILLIAMS 

Simmons College 

RONALD A. WOLK 

The Johns Hopkins University 

ELIZABETH BOND WOOD 

Sweet Briar College 

CHESLEY WORTHINGTON 

Brown University 



COR BIN GWALTNEY 

Executive Editor 



JOHN A. CROWL 

Associate Editor 





I I^ctGj^ . . , 



Spring Brings Sadness, Happiness. Showers and Sun 



I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he 
hat believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he 
4ve: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never 
ie." With these great words from The Book of Common 
'rayer the last service for Ellen Douglass Leyburn '27 
•egan. on March 22, 1966 at St. Bartholomew's Episcopal 
'hurch in Atlanta. 

Later in the service came the words: "In the midst of 
ife we are in death." I came out of church into a bright, 
unlit, spring world, rejoicing that Ellen Douglass' human 
uffering was forever done, struggling to overcome my 
lmost overwhelming sense of loss, and, finally standing 
.part for a moment to allow release for the tide of great 
nemories of her which swirled in me. 

These are very personal words I'm writing, and I can 
ut beg understanding of you who read them. In the fall 
■f 1934, when I came to Agnes Scott, I was fortunate to 
iave Miss Leyburn as my freshman English teacher. (This 
fas her "freshman year" on the Agnes Scott faculty.) 
t was she who guided my willing but diffused mind to 
he joys and insights of intellectual excitement combined 
■dm scholarly endeavor. I know that I share this experi- 
nce with numberless others of you, her former students. 

One of her articles which I have published in this 
lagazine {Quarterly, Winter, 1959) she titled "A Modern 
;aint." She was writing about Simone Weill, but for me 
his title embodies all that was Ellen Douglass Leyburn 
erself. 

A bright bit of happiness this spring was the Agnes Scott 
tudent team's victory over the mighty men of Princeton 
n the General Electric "College Bowl" television pro- 
ram March 6. Here is a resounding kudos to the team 
lembers (see p. 31) and their coach, Eleanor N. 
lutchens '40, associate professor of English. I could de- 
ote several issues of the magazine to letters and news 
tories about this momentous event, from people and 
apers all over the nation. 

Instead, I must be content to report on "the New 
'ork View." Marybeth Little Weston '48, president of 
he Alumnae Association, and Cissie Spiro Aidinoff '51, 
ice-president, invited alumnae and their husbands in 
he New York area to a pre-telecast meeting. They asked 
Roberta Winter '27. associate professor of speech and 



drama, Carrington Wilson '60, news director, and me to 
come from the campus. (We accepted this invitation 
with unabashed alacrity!) 

New York greeted us with abominable weather, rain, 
fog, and snow. Planes were late or could not land (in- 
cluding the team's.) But the elements could not daunt 
Agnes Scott alumnae. Approximately eighty alumnae and 
husbands attended the pre-telecast meeting, then we 
went in a group to the studio to be a major portion of 
the studio audience. (Yes, those screams you heard dur- 
ing the last hectic seconds of the show were ours. ) I 
carry still the remnants of bruises given me by ecstatic 
alumnae — normally calm, mature, composed human beings. 

I flew back to Atlanta with the team. I had left my car 
at the airport and offered to transport them to Decatur — 
foolish words, for upon arrival we were greeted by stu- 
dents and faculty who had swept from the campus to the 
airport in a fifty-car motorcade with police escort. 

Bedlam reigned supreme for many moments. Atlanta's 
press, radio, and TV reporters tried to interview team 
members against a background of shouting, singing stu- 
dents. The students eventually won this one-sided fray 
and took "their own" back to the campus for a celebra- 
tion in The Hub. No victorious Georgia Tech football team 
homecoming could have been more wondrous. 

Spring at Agnes Scott means to me primarily the joys 
and the woes of Alumnae Week End, the joys of planning 
special events for returning alumnae and the woes of 
worrying over possible miscalculations in the plans. I'm 
very pleased to report that even I forgot my worries this 
year and heartily enjoyed every moment. (One small side- 
line woe I'll share with you: the College's business mana- 
ger spent that Friday afternoon hunting china because 
the dining hall manager had suddenly discovered there was 
not enough to serve the Alumnae Luncheon on Saturday. ) 

I revelled this year because Elizabeth Blackshear Flinn, 
'38, my classmate and friend, who has given so much 
of herself, her keen mind, her concern, and her time, to 
the Alumnae Association, is its new president. 



£Vv*.c3«*.W*y ^fWnr^. «3T 



RETURN POSTAGE GUARANTEED BY ALUMNAE QUARTERLY, AGNES SCOTT COLLEGE, DECATUR, GEORGIA 30030 



/Thsvi £*6tL&i*~> /2t 



^Tn^v^ 



Spring has come also to the new Dana Fine Arts Building. 





torn ;#». 1 




....... I 




An Appreciation of Miss Leyburn • see page 7 



SUMMER 1966 








THE ALUMNAE QUARTERLY 

SUMMER 1966 



VOL. 44, NO. 4 



CONTENTS 

2 Blackfriars' Golden Anniversary 

by Jean Bailey Owen '39 

7 She Did Gladly Learn and Gladly Teach 

By George P. Hayes and C. Benton Kline 

9 "The Courage of Confidence" 

An Appreciation of Ellen Douglass Leyburn 
by President Wallace M. Alston 

10 Prayer 

by C. Benton Kline, Jr., Dean of the Faculty 

12 Alumnae Week End 1966 

15 Class of '16 is Fifty Years Young 

16 Class News 
29 Worthy Notes 



Ann Worthy Johnson '38, Editor 

Barbara Murlin Pendleton '40, Managing Editor 

John Stuart McKenzie, Design Consultant 





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FRONT COVER 

Entrance to Dining Hall. The 
great oak is the one under 
which Blackfriars held its first 
performances. See p. 2. Photo 
Credits: Ken Patterson 



MEMBER OF AMERICAN ALUMNI COUNCIL 

Published November, February, April and July for alumnae and friends 
of Agnes Scott College. Subscription price for others $2.00 per year. 
Entered as second class matter at the Post Office of Decatur, Georgia, 
under Act of August 24, 1912. 




Intellectual fare which alumnae could ''inwardly digest" with 
delight was provided on Alumnae Week End by a 
faculty panel discussing the creative arts. 



UUMNAE QUARTERLY / SUMMER 1966 






Blackfriar Alumna JEAN BAILEY OWEN '39, Rej: 



Pomp and Circumstance Surroun 



FOR a group whose leader, dur- 
ing the first thirty-nine years of 
its existence, thrice annually de- 
clared its members to have failed 
in their performance and "washed her 
hands" of the current effort, at the 
end of its first half century Blackfriars 
of Agnes Scott is dramatically alive. 
But during Miss Frances K. Gooch's 
near-Elizabethan reign, word was 
passed down from generation to gen- 
eration of students that this was her 
M.O., the sign and seal of each pro- 
duction. Her words were an impreca- 
tion that must be uttered to assure its 
success. Without implying anything so 
unintellectual as superstitution in con- 
nection with Agnes Scott students, we 
might still suggest that if this par- 
ticular "swearing-out" ceremony and 
an occasional fainting spell worthy of 
Maude Adams had not taken place on 
the night of dress rehearsal, postpone- 
ment of opening night might have been 
considered. Like the sweeping, de- 
scending theme of Tschaikovsky's 
Pathetique this is the consistently re- 
curring memory recorded in letters 
from Blackfriars charter members of 
1915 right up until 1951 when the re- 
doutable Miss Gooch retired. 

It seems that there were two organi- 
zations producing plays on the campus 
during the years between Agnes Scott 
becoming a four-year accredited col- 
lege (1906) and 1915 when Miss 
Gooch came. They were known by 
the unpronounceable names, Mnemo- 
synean and Propylean societies. Of- 
ficial history does not record the exact 
reasons for the creation, on executive 
order from the faculty, of Blackfriars 
as a new, administration-backed repre- 




Dr. Alston, Pat McManmon Ott '48, alumnae chairman of the celebration, and Roberta 
Winter '27, chairman of the Speech and Drama Department, made a handsome three- 
some at the reception. 

THE ACNES SCOT 



n the lawn to the 
itiful new boards 
he Dana Building 
leap of fifty years 
the College's 
ma group 



lackfriars' Golden Anniversary 



sentative of dramatic art. At any rate, 
an invitation went out from the head 
lof the English department, Dr. 

M. D. Armistead, to fourteen out- 
standing students to meet and organize 
an officially recognized drama group 
under the guidance of the new speech 
instructor. Frances K. Gooch. No 
splinter group seems to have been 
formed, so the fourteen met, made 
plans, and an organization was born. 

We have a very clear recollection 
from Maryellen Harvey Newton '16 
of the prophetic day upon which she 
received her invitation from Dr. Armi- 
stead to act as secretary of the selected 
group and call a meeting upon a des- 
ignated date in the fall of 1915. She 
lists the charter members as Gjertrud 
Amundsen, Laurie Caldwell, Lois Eve, 
Alice Fleming, Eloise Gay, Olive 
Hardwick, Maryellen Harvey, Ray 
Harvison. India Hunt, Margaret Phy- 
thian. May Smith, Jeannette Victory, 
Louise Ware and Vallie Young White. 
Besides Miss Gooch, other faculty 
members named to the group were: 
Miss Cady, Miss DeGarmo. Miss 
Markley, Miss McKinney, Dr. Armi- 
stead and Mr. Stukes. Both Miss Cady 
and Dr. Armistead had directed plays 
produced by the two literary societies. 
The first officers, elected at meetings 
in the chapl in Rebekah Scott Hall 
and on the colonnade were: Jeannette 
Victor, President; Louise Ware, Vice- 
president; Maryellen Harvey, Secre- 
tary; Lois Eve, Treasurer; Gejertrud 
Amundsen. Stage Director; and Vallie 
Young White, Property Manager. 

The name was chosen from that of 
Richard Burbage's theater which stood 
in Shakespeare's day on the grounds 

ALUMNAE QUARTERLY / SUMMER 1966 



of an old Dominican monasterv in 
London where friars whose habit was 
black had been housed — quite an 
etymological pedigree to he sustained 
by fourteen young ladies in a college 
onlv ten years removed from a "fe- 
male seminary." The first production 
was a one-act play. The Kleptomaniac, 
modest, comical, and without Freud- 
ian implications. 

Gjertrud Amundsen Siqueland '17 
recalls that men's roles were not only 
acted by the girls, but also, for "mod- 
ern" plays Miss Nanette Hopkins, the 
Dean, could not quite go to the length 
of permitting the young ladies to wear 
trousers. Long black skirts put further 
burden on their acting ability in play- 
ing male parts, not to mention on the 
audience's imagination. One of the 
earliest "break-throughs" — probably 
achieved by Miss Gooch after many 
heated conferences — is recorded by 
Frances Lincoln Moss '25 who re- 
members borrowing Mr. Stukes' trous- 
ers for her tryout as Sir Peter Teazle 
in School for Scandal, but being six 
feet tall herself had to obtain a pair 
of Dr. McCain's instead. 

In the spring of 1916 an estab- 
lished tradition was continued by 
Blackfriars with the production of A 
Midsummer Night's Dream under the 
big oak in front of Dr. Gaines' house. 
(The tree still stands in front of Evans 
Dining Hall. I Gjertrud Amundsen 
says that costumes were ordered from 
New York for these efforts and usu- 
ally proved a great disappointment 
both in fit and glamour. When Twelfth 
Night was performed in 1917, the 
men's doublet and hose must surely 
have been shrouded in floor length 



cloaks, although no mention is made 
of Miss Hopkins ruling on this sub- 
ject. Malvolio's soliloquy on cross- 
gartering must have suffered from the 
chains of modesty. 

As for the long weeks of practice 
under Miss Gooch, all Blackfriars 
alumnae are agreed that, "we hated 
her, we loved her, we worked for her," 
that she was "a temperamental artist." 
an excellent director — and no diplomat. 

The hopes and fears of those who 
"tried-out" for Blackfriars are still 
vivid remembrances. Some students 
were accepted as full members, others 
as associates. There were, for example, 
sixteen associate members in addition 
to the fourteen organizers. Llewellyn 
Wilburn '19. now head of the physical 
education department, was one of the 
first associates. Louise Girardeau Cook 
'28 still remembers it as thrilling to 
have been notified of her election to 
Blackfriars after constructing a much- 
researched model stage-setting for two 
acts from As You Like It. She and 
Sara Glenn Boyd '28 collaborated on 
the set. and in 1926 it won them the 
desired invitation. Dorothy Cheek Cal- 
laway '29 says that she watched the 
bulletin board for days after her try- 
out, fearing the worst, only to find the 
cherished notification resting quietly 
in her mailbox one day. 

Once in, the hazards were not over, 
for initiation involved further obstacle 
courses. Frances Lincoln Moss '25 was 
asked to bring thirteen Lincoln pennies 
bearing the date 1905 to her initiation. 
Of course there were none of that date 
in existence, which she discovered only 
after going through some five hundred 
with a magnifying glass. 

(Continued on next page) 



BLACKFRIARS' GOLDEN ANNIVERSARY (Continued) 



From 1915 to 1929 the productions 
showed a loyalty to Shakespeare, with 
more modern and less demanding ve- 
hicles interspersing the schedule. Sev- 
eral plays were repeated a year or two 
apart, reflecting, perhaps, limited funds 
for purchases of scripts, some of which 
required royalty fees. Hallie Alexander 
Turner '16 records the fact that a 
young soldier from New York's East 
Side, stationed here, attended a play 
performed on the lawn in front of 
Dr. Gaines' home and was inspired to 
poetry and a romantic interest in her. 
She did not accept his proposal, but 
she still recognizes the magic spell cast 
by the outdoor production of A Mid- 
summer Night's Dream in which she 
played a part. 

By 1927 plays had moved from 
chapel and lawn into the Bucher Scott 
Gymnasium, and a more sophisticated 
era was developing. Girls wore men's 
clothes for men's parts, and the Vic- 
torian age showed signs of passing. 
The rigorous discipline and heroic 
measures to achieve perfection de- 
manded by Miss Gooch, however, did 
not diminish. In 1916 she wanted to 
know if Maryellen Harvey thought she 



Margaret Phythian '16 and Maryellen 
Harvey Newton '16 were charter mem- 
bers of Blackfnars. 




could improve on Shakespeare when 
she failed to remember some lines and 
had to ad lib a bit. 

She made Frances Lincoln read an 
entire act of Julius Caesar from a 
prone position while Miss Gooch held 
a book pressed against her victim's 
diaphragm in order to bring her voice 
down several pitches. She tried sar- 
casm, charm, bribery, despotism and 
tantrums to get performances she con- 
sidered satisfactory. She accused stu- 
dents of having "no more concentra- 
tion than a chicken." In the nineteen- 
thirties her hair turned whiter and her 
eyes bluer. Her pince-nez bobbed and 
flashed when she tossed her head and 
pounded her cane in anger. She 
shouted and she ridiculed, and once 
in a while a student would be driven 
to defy her — whereupon all the fury 
vanished, and she bowed quietly to 
courage and logic. 

Blackfriars not only produced plays 
and brought out the ingenuity of its 
non-acting members in set production 
and costuming but also participated 
with other colleges at speech conven- 
tions. Betty Lou Houck Smith '35, 
Elizabeth Cousins Mozley '38, Jeanne 
Flynt Stokes '39, Joyce Roper McKey 
'38, and Jean Bailey Owen '39 recall 
a momentous trip to Nashville in 1937 
with Miss Gooch driving. The return 
trip reached a suitable climax in an 
automobile accident. Betty Lou suf- 
fered a concussion — could not remem- 
ber the trip for a while — and four of 
the wayfarers "sort of hitched a ride 
with a traveling salesman" as far as 
Chattanooga and proceeded thence by 
bus to home, hearth and harrassed 
parents. 

Still another facet of the artistic 
stimulation Blackfriars gave to the 
Agnes Scott campus was its produc- 
tions of plays written by students and 
faculty. In 1926 three plays by stu- 
dents Elizabeth McCallie Snoots '27, 
Margaret Bland Sewll '20, and Grace 
Augusta Ogden Moore '26 were per- 
formed at the Atlanta Women's Club 
and in Charlotte, North Carolina. In 
1927 four others by Frances Freeborn 
Pauley '27, Lillian Leconte Haddock 
'29, Helen Lewis Lindsley '27, and 
Roberta Winter '27 were on the 
boards. Pink and Patches by Margaret 
Bland Sewell was presented in the Na- 
tional Little Theatre Tournament and 



the David Belasco Cup Contest in Ne 
York and won first prize for an ui| 
published play. These were only 
few of the awards achieved and roae 
traveled by Blackfriars in keeping dn 
matic art alive and lively. They mad 
membership in Blackfriars competith 
and coveted at Agnes Scott. 

One of the most stimulating aware 
which has been offered for nearly 
quarter of a century is the Claude ! 
Bennett Trophy for Acting. In 193j 
Blackfriars morale was about as loi 
as the nation's, and Miss Gooch di 
cided upon one of her "operatic 
bootstrap" projects. She wanted to gh| 
an award for the best acting done eao 
year, and for 1932 a silver cup wa 
purchased and awarded to Ameli 
O'Neal for her work as Eliza Doolittl 
in Shaw's Pygmalion. Came 1933, ani 
the treasury was nearly bankrupt i 
that year of the Roosevelt Bank Hoi 
day. Margaret Belote Morse '33 wen 
shopping with the club's insufficien 
funds and was led by the Muses t 
Mr. Claude S. Bennett. Upon hearim 
the specifications for the cup and it 
winner, he volunteered to be the dono: 
Mr. Bennett was the proprietor of I 
leading jewelry store in Atlanta an; 
spouse of an Agnes Scott alumna, Ei 
telle Chandler '24. He set up a cor! 
tinuing prize of a sterling silver cu 
to be awarded annually to the be:, 
actress judged on acting, voice, dici 
tion, pantomime, characterization am 
general stage presence. The award ij 
still being given, and the quality c 
the acting has continued to improve. 
In recent years there has been thi 
challenge of more difficult vehicles; 
improving standards of artistic pen 
formances in Atlanta (from whenc 
the judges come each year), and i; 
1966 the stimulus of a really fini 
theatre on campus in which to pen 
form. 

But, back to the thirties, the stag 
ing in the gymnasium, the need to 
scripts that cost little or nothing it 
royalty payments, the relatively smal 
group of willing males from Emor 
and Georgia Tech who went in fo 
dramatics made for, shall we say, re 
strictions on artistic expression. Dur 
ing this period a group of Life Mem 
berships in Blackfriars were givei 
both to honor past performances anci 
loyalties among alumnae and to stim 
ulate alumnae interest in play attend 
ance. They provided free admissior 
to Blackfriars' plays, and the letter: 
of thanks in Blackfriars' files indicate 

THE AGNES SCOTT 




ane Morgan '69, Tom Thumb, and Lennard Smith '69, Princess Huncamunca, 

eads in the Blackfriars production during its 50th anniversary celebration, added 

:olor to the lovely buffet and reception. 



temporary plays interspersed with 
classics — from Euripides to Shaw. 

In April 1951 Blackfriars and The 
Emory Players produced jointly 
Shaw's Heartbreak House at Emory 
and Agnes Scott under the direction 
of George Neely of Emory. The fol- 
lowing spring the favor was returned 
when Roberta Winter directed the 
same two groups in / Remember 
Mama by John van Druten. A similar 
collaboration with Drama Tech re- 
sulted in productions on both cam- 
puses in 1960 of Wilder' s The Skin 
of Our Teeth with direction by Tech's 
Mary Nelle Santacroce and technical 
direction by Blackfriars' Elvena M. 
Green. 

Courses in speech and drama at 
Agnes Scott had always been offered 
as part of the English department's 
curriculum. In 1956-57 a splendid step 
toward establishing a separate depart- 
ment, with a major, was taken when 
Annie Louise Harrison Waterman, 
class of 1895, gave funds for a chair 
of speech and drama. The College 
had long desired this change, and 
Roberta Winter had been given leave 
of absence during 1950-51 to start 
work at New York University that 
led to her Doctor of Education degree 
— thus satisfying another College re- 
quirement, that departmental heads 



that they were indeed appreciated. It 
was also at the end of this decade that 
:he College conducted a fund cam- 
paign which made possible the build- 
fog of Presser Hall. The greatly im- 
proved staging facilities there gave 
impetus to better productions by 
'Blackfriars. 

Such source material as Blackfriars' 
Play Programs indicates that in May 
1930 there occurred the first unmis- 
takeably male names among the ac- 
tors. The millenium had arrived! But 
something must have taken place to 
set back this precedent shattering, for 
no other male name besmirched the 
cast of characters until March 1931, 
when Charles McCain, President Mc- 
Cain's eight-year-old son, played the 
part of Georgy in Sir James Barrie's 
Quality Street. Miss Hopkins, after all, 
could hardly take issue with that! Like 
the first income tax, however, a new 
procedure had occurred, and forever- 
more man has trod the boards in num- 
berless productions at Agnes Scott. 
Shakespeare and some of the Greek 
classics remained feminine throughout, 
largely because nine-tenths of the char- 

ALUMNAE QUARTERLY / SUMMER 1966 



acters in Shakespeare are men any- 
way, and the play directors would have 
had a nearly impossible casting and 
directing job with so many off-campus 
cast members. We have no statistical 
proof but are virtually certain that 
attendance by students increased mark- 
edly whenever men were in the cast 
during those first momentous experi- 
ments! 

It was in the fall of 1939 that Ro- 
berta Winter, '27, who had been such 
an active Blackfriar in both acting and 
play-writing, came to the campus as 
assistant to Miss Gooch. She followed 
such able instructors as Polly Vaughan 
Ewing '34 and Carrie Phinney Latimer 
Duvall '36. Her experience since grad- 
uation from Agnes Scott in 1927 with 
Phi Beta Kappa honors had included 
teaching speech at Hillhouse High 
School in New Haven. Connecticut. 
She worked as technical director under 
Miss Gooch until November, 1943, 
when she had full direction of the play 
Shubert Alley by Mel Denelli. During 
this period the plays selected tended 
to move away from "originals" and 
included more well-known and con- 



Memye Curtis Tucker '56 and her 
mother, Mary Freeman Curtis '26, both 
Blackfriars alumnae, helped celebrate. 




BLACKFRIARS' GOLDEN ANNIVERSARY (Continued) 



hold doctoral degrees. During the 
1950's play programs indicate a grow- 
ing artistic standard and originality at- 
testing Blackfriars allegiance to all 
phases of dramatic production. 

It was in 1958 that a new award 
appeared, in addition to the Claude S. 
Bennett Trophy. Nancy Kimmel Dun- 
can '59 and her mother established 
the Harley R. Kimmel Trophy in 
memory of Nancy's father. It is given 
to the member of Blackfriars, acting 
or technical, who is considered by a 
committee of members to have been 
the most valuable to Blackfriars pro- 
ductions. Annette Whipple '59 was 
the first recipient. 

Then in 1962 a third award was 
announced, the Winter-Green Schol- 
arship, a summer-stock grant, which 
provides that the winner may have her 
choice of working at Barter Theater, 
Abingdon, Virginia, or Flat Rock 
North Carolina. Margaret Roberts 
Perdue '62 was the first student to win 
this newest award. 

As a feature of the Golden Anni- 
versary Celebration this year all Black- 
friars alumnae were invited to write 
in reminiscences, fond or otherwise, 
and it is fascinating to note that the 
recollections were more vivid and 
seemed much more significant to in- 
dividuals in direct ratio to their senior- 
ity. Whether membership in the drama 
group today does not loom as large 
as in the first quarter century, or 
whether younger alumnae lead more 
hectic lives, thus crowding out nos- 
talgia, we cannot know. Certainly the 
theatre in our world is reaching many 
more people with both amateur and 
professional productions. And as the 
stage widens and adds new dimensions, 
there must be a chronological stage 
for the individual person at which re- 
membrance is enhanced, even pos- 
sibly embellished. 

Barbara Battle '56, writing from 
Columbia University where she is pur- 
suing a career in educational drama, 
sent in a cartoon sketch done by Jene 
Sharp '57 in "tribute" to three faculty 
members, one of whose remarks had 
touched an exposed corporate nerve 
in their play-production class. It seems 
that lanet Loring, instructor in speech 
and dramatic art, offered the opinion 
that the group lacked initiative. 




&cmm 



Blackfriars alumnae greet Elvena M. Green, Assistant Professor of Speech and 
Drama, and director of the Blackfriars' fiftieth anniversary play, "The Tragedy of 
Tragedies or the Life and Death of Tom Thumb the Great," by Henry Fielding. 



Whether containing any element of 
truth or not, her statement set off 
waves of a kind of initiative in the 
form of the sketch depicting Miss Lor- 
ing and her close associates, Catherine 
Chance and Elizabeth Zenn, as Mac- 
beth's witches. The visual metaphor 
caught on, and "I've got no initiative" 
became a campus cliche along with 
the predictable excursions into voodoo 
and allied black magic. 

Nineteen fifty-eight saw the first 
Fine Arts Festival bringing all phases 
of artistic endeavor together and a 
return of one-act original productions 
from the pens of students and faculty. 
And so an era came back to a cam- 
pus where drama has been a tradition 



never allowed to grow hoary, always 
polished with much use, being tunec 
constantly to pick up new glints and 
glows from current trends in play- 
writing, acting and producing. We 
have become so used to "new eras' 
in this accelerated century that the 
term should be avoided, but what else 1 
can describe the years ahead with the 
Dana Fine Arts Building in its first 
year of occupancy, with 1968 peeking 
around the corner when for the first 
time, finally, it will be possible to 
graduate some seniors with a major 
in dramatic art? Blackfriars is fifty, 
and we submit that longevity has 1 
moved that date when "life begins . . 
forward by a decade! 



THE AGNES SCOTT 



She Did Gladly Learn and Gladly Teach 

A tribute to Ellen Douglass Ley burn '27, from her colleagues 



Ellen Douglass Leyburn was born Sep- 
tember 21, 1907, in Durham, North Caro- 
lina. She entered Agnes Scott College as a 
freshman in the fall of 1923. As an under- 
graduate she excelled in English, graduating 
in 1927. Active in campus affairs she served 
as president of HOASC. 

Upon graduation she entered Radcliffe 
where she earned her M.A. in English in 
1928. For four years she taught in private 
schools until she entered Yale in 1932 to 
work on her Ph.D. She completed the degree 
in 1934. 

In 1934 she returned to Agnes Scott as in- 
structor in English, rising to assistant profes- 
sor in 1938, associate professor in 1943, pro- 
fessor in 1957. In the spring of 1965 she was 
named chairman of the department of Eng- 
lish. From her pen flowed a steady stream of 
articles on topics from the 18th Century and 
contemporary literature. After a leave at the 
Huntington Library in 1953-54, Satiric Al- 
legory: Mirror of Man (Yale, 1956) ap- 
peared. At her death she left a manuscript 
for her last work. Comedy and Tragedy in 
the Works of Henry James: A Strange Alloy, 
written during a leave in 1964-65. Unable to 
return to the classroom in the fall of 1965. 
she directed two students in independent 
study, sending in their grades two days before 
her death on March 20. 1966. 

She dedicated herself fully to the purposes 
of Agnes Scott and worked untiringly for its 
well-being. Always critical of what was un- 
worthy, shabby or less than first-rate, she gave 
the best resources of her mind to thought 
about what would improve the College. Over 
the years she served on many important com- 




This photograph of Ellen Douglass Leyburn appeared in the 
1944 "Silhouette," which was dedicated to her. 



mittees. The Independent Study Program was 
the fruit of a study she led, and the statement 
of its purpose is hers. On two occasions she 
led the committee to consider comprehensive 
examinations and never surrendered her con- 
viction that such a culminating experience 
was needed. 

Her sense of order and propriety gave dis- 
tinction to her service as faculty marshal, and 
countless graduates as well as her colleagues 
remember her figure, sturdy and erect, lead- 
ing the procession to "Ancient of Days." 

Ellen Douglass Leyburn was first of all a 
(Continued on next page) 



ALUMNAE QUARTERLY / SUMMER 1966 



She Did Gladly Learn and Gladly Teach 



(Continued) 



student and a teacher. She would gladly learn 
and gladly teach — be "an interpreter and re- 
later of the best and sagest things." She spent 
hours every day preparing for the classroom 
what in essence she had mastered years be- 
fore and was never ceasing to augment and 
modify with the advance of knowledge. If she 
imposed strict standards on students, she ex- 
emplified even stricter in her own writing. 
Students looked up to her with awe as mas- 
ter, with deep affection as friend. Yet she 
herself put it simply and lightly: "Teaching 
is such fun." 

In the classroom she aimed at giving over 
the discussion to the students. At other times 
when her questioning elicited an inarticulate 
reply, she would re-phase the student's answer 
so that the student was astonished at her own 
intelligence. 

In graduate school feeling the need of self- 
discipline, she chose for her primary field of 
study not the expansive Renaissance or the 
expansive Romantics but the era of concen- 
tration, of discipline, of clear thinking, the 
eighteenth century Age of Reason, of Dean 
Swift and Dr. Johnson. Like her models she 
approached every subject with an unfailing 
eye for its essentials. Hence the impregna- 
bility of her intellectual positions granted 
their premises. Hence too the pregnant con- 
ciseness of her utterance oral and written. 

To a degree that seemed to give a physical 
wrench to her nature she identified herself 
with the sufferings of others. Just as Simone 
Weil — her spiritual sister — half-starved her- 
self by confining her diet, when in England, 
to that permitted to her French compatriots 
under the German occupation, so Ellen Doug- 
lass Leyburn, harassed by repeated illnesses, 
wore herself out by a total giving of her in- 
tellectual, emotional and spiritual resources 



to others. In pain much of the time over many 
years, she never failed to make the most rign 
orous demands on herself. Her raw courage 
carried her through every trial, renewed itself 
after each illness, and stood by her to the end, 
cheering her friends who would come to con 
sole her. 

One felt in her presence a total commit 
ment to intellectual and religious ends. Hence 
her extraordinary will power, legendary on 
campus. Student papers, no matter how 
many, were always returned, minutely criti 
cized, on the day after they were turned in 
Who can measure the influence that the gen 
eral knowledge of this little fact has had upon 
students? 

Applying to her what she herself said of! 
Camus and Dr. Johnson, she had "immense 
power ... to fortify the spirit and to com- 
municate ... the feeling that the dignity of 
man endures — and that it consists in his 
integrity." 

Her passing "has made a chasm which not ! 
only nothing can fill up, but which nothing 
has a tendency to fill up." 

Perhaps during those last long months she | 
was living with the words which she quotes 
from Simone Weil: 

We cannot take a single step to- 
ward heaven. It is not in our power 
to travel in a vertical direction. If 
however we look heavenward for a 
long time, God comes and takes 
us up. 

George P. Hayes 
Professor of English 
C. Benton Kline, Jr. 
Dean of Faculty 
Adopted by the faculty of 
Agnes Scott College at its 
meeting on May 13, 1966. 

THE AGNES SCOT 




Miss Leyburn gave a delightful and thoroughly excellent performance as the leading actress in the last great Faculty Skit. 

' The Courage of Confidence* 

An appreciation of Ellen Douglass Leyburn' s life at Agnes Scott 
by President Wallace M. Alston 



I count it a privilege to speak 
briefly in appreciation of a life nobly 
;pent in the service of this college. 
Since Ellen Douglass Leyburn was 
aken from us last March, I have 
hought often of her long-time in- 
vestment here and of her rich be- 
quests to Agnes Scott. She gave the 
oest that she had to make this a 
good college. And she had abundant 
wealth to share. When I speak of 
Ellen Douglass Leyburn's gifts to 
Agnes Scott, I am by no means un- 
mindful of the fact that she gave us 
her much-loved home on South 
Candler Street and the books that 
were her prized possession. Much 
as we value these material tokens 
of her devotion to the College, we 



recognize that the inheritance that 
we have received from her intel- 
lectual and spiritual life was her 
major contribution not only to 
Agnes Scott but to her day and 
generation. Her life was wrapped up 
in the affairs of this college. We 
hold in trust, therefore, something 
very valuable — the net worth of a 
great life that was devoted to the 
purposes for which this college 
exists. 

Shortly before leaving the Carne- 
gie Foundation, Dr. John W. Gard- 
ner made a widely-publicized address 
in which he described what he called 
a new generation of college teach- 
ers. According to John Gardner, 
they are committed to their respec- 



tive professions but scarcely to the 
institutions that they serve. They are 
peripatetic. They go where salaries 
and research grants are highest, 
teaching loads lowest, and fringe 
benefits most favorable. Ellen Doug- 
lass Leyburn did not even faintly 
answer to such a description. She 
was committed to her profession as 
have been few people of my ac- 
quaintance, but she was at one and 
the same time deeply loyal to the 
institution in which she served. My 
personal files include a number of 
letters from her pen, written at dif- 
ferent times in the period of our 
association, in which she warmly 
and enthusiastically renewed her 
(Continued on page 11) 



ALUMNAE QUARTERLY / SUMMER 1966 



A 



- 



"Countless graduates, as well as her 
colleagues, remember her figure, sturdy 
and erect, leading the procession to 
'Ancient of Days.' " 



A* 



LMIGHTY GOD, our heavenly Father, 



K»l 



'■>■. ' •: "■ ' -■ 



By whom we are created, in whose love we are kept, and to 
whom we go at our appointed time: 

We remember before thee today, Ellen Douglass Leyburn, our 
colleague, our teacher, our friend. 

We thank thee for her integrity, born out of her singleness 
of purpose and evidenced in all her words and deeds; 

We thank thee for her intelligence, exhibited in classroom 
and in private conversation alike, and illuminating in its 
brilliance every subject to which she turned her mind; 

We thank thee for her humility, that made her a person with- 
out pretense and found in others the qualities they hardly 
knew themselves to possess; 

We thank thee for her devotion to duty, exemplified in her 
teaching, in her response to the needs of students, and 
in every responsibility fulfilled with promptness and 
with zeal; 

We thank thee for her courage, which made her life through 
many years and especially in its latter months a rare 
testimony to all who knew her; 

We thank thee for her faith, never flaunted but quietly 
yet vigorously attested in every moment of her life. 

We thank thee that this College and our lives bear the 

marks of her years here, and we pray that we may our- 
selves be touched with something of the same integrity 
and intelligence, humility and devotion to duty, 
courage and faith. 

O Lord, support us all the day long, until the shadows 

lengthen and the evening comes, and the busy world is 
hushed, and the fever of life is over, and our work is 
done. Then in thy mercy grant us a safe lodging, and 
a holy rest, and peace at the last; through JesusChrist 
our Lord. Amen 

C. Benton Kline, Jr. 

Dean of Faculty 



^■'-' |V"^ ■ 



i ,l t i , W ■.*■ • .- 4 ... - . i 



■:■ «. .'■ 



.-..--.■: 



Editor's Note: The tribute to Miss Leyburn from the faculty, read by Dr. Hayes, Dr. 
Alston's splendid words of appreciation, and Dr. Kline's poignant prayer composed the 
Memorial Service for Ellen Douglass Leyburn held in Gaines Chapel at the last College 
Convocation of the year, June 1, 1966. Her former students will be interested to know 
that Edna Hanley Byers, College Librarian, has compiled a bibliography of Miss 
Leyburn's published writings. Reprints of some articles are available on request from 
Mrs. Bvers. 



COURAGE (Continued) 

ommitment to the purposes and 
lims of this college. She taught us 
hat a critical mind and an inde- 
jendent spirit are not inconsistent 
vith a devoted loyalty. 

In the eighteen years that I have 
■•cnown Ellen Douglass Leyburn as 
;olleague and friend, I have had the 
opportunity to observe the maturing 
af a brilliant mind and the deep- 
2ning of a profound spiritual nature. 
She was a scholar whose honesty 
and integrity of mind could not be 
questioned. She was a superb 
teacher who made rigorous demands 
upon herself and who would not 
tolerate shabby or tawdry work 
from her students. Teaching was 
serious business, so far as Ellen 
Douglass Leyburn was concerned. 
She had an exalted notion of the 
teacher's role because she believed 
the discovery and impartation of 
truth to be the most important ven- 
ture in which a human life can be 
engaged. She never trifled with truth 
because truth to her was sacred. She 
taught by deliberate choice to the 
end of her life. As long as there is 
an Agnes Scott College, she will be 
remembred as one of the truly great 
teachers here. 



I have had the privilege of per- 
sonally knowing to some extent El- 
len Douglass Leyburn's insatiable 
desire for meaning. Her interest in 
intellectual matters was primarily to 
discover deep-lying meaning. She 
was inquisitive, penetrating, and 
persistent in her determination to 
get at the heart of whatever she 
sought to understand. The problems 
of philosophy and theology intrigued 
her mind. She asked probing, dis- 
comforting, relentless questions. She 
could not be put off with gneraliza- 
tions nor satisfied with pat. conven- 
tional answers. But her concern to 
find meaning was that she might 
take it up into her life and make it 
part of the very fiber of her being. 
She did just that. 

I recall a conversation with Ellen 
Douglass Leyburn several years ago 
in which we were talking about one 
of the most striking sections in Paul 
Tillich's book. The Courage to Be. 
The particular passage that we were 
discussing was the one in which Til- 
lich magnificently interprets in con- 
temporary fashion the thought of 
the Apostle Paul and Martin Luther 
on justification. Tillich speaks of 
the "courage of confidence" as a 
necessity for great living and insists 
that it involves acceptance of God's 



acceptance of us even though we 
are unacceptable. Ellen Douglass 
Leyburn, aggressive intellectual, as- 
piring idealist, eager activist, had 
trouble with that, she insisted. But 
the truth of it bore in upon her mind 
and heart. Moreover, in the past 
two years of suffering, of discourage- 
ment, and, finally, of making her 
peace with the inevitability of death 
— interrupting her plans and shat- 
tering her hopes and dreams in the 
very prime of her life — I have 
watched her take up into her deep- 
est soul Tillich's meaning and the 
meaning of the Christian doctrine 
of the grace of God. As she came 
to accept God's acceptance of her 
and God's loving purpose for her, 
there was no cessation of questions, 
but she found quietness and confi- 
dence, courage to live out her life 
and to plan for her death. If ever a 
person discovered and appropriated 
"the courage of confidence," it was 
Ellen Douglass Leyburn. She walked 
with dignity, integrity, and a deepen- 
ing sense of God's presence in the 
daytime of her life; when night came 
on, she was unafraid. Her witness 
as a great Christian teacher both in 
living and in dying will endure as 
one of our most cherished pos- 
sessions. 



AtUMNAE QUARTERLY / SUMMER 1966 



11 




First on the agenda of the returning alumna was 
to check in at the registration desk. 



For many an out-of-towner a quick tour of the Dana Fine Arts Building was 
a "must." 



Happiest Agnes Scott ' Happening' 

Returning alumnae spilled down the steps of the Colonnade and on to the Quadrangle during the pre-luncheon meet-the-facult 
hour, an innovation this year. 





lean Kline, Richard Hensel, Ferdinand Warren, and Margret 
i-otter conducted a lively and penetrating panel on the arts. 










Alumnae crowded together on the Colonnade to greet 
members of the faculty. 



pril Alumnae Week End 1966 




Dr. Alston and Nancy Holland Sibley '58 found 
time for a spirited discussion before the 
luncheon. 



Tomato juice, crackers, and the joy of finding old friends was the 
order of the day before lunch. 




April 
Alumnae 
Week End 1< 



(Continued) 




The classes of '41 and '57 had fine turn-outs; '65 had 
a record-making number, and the class of '17 looked 
forward to celebrating their 50th next year. 



THE AGNES SCOTT 



RAY HARVISON SMITH '16 



Glass of 16 
Is Fifty Years Yomi! 



F all 50th reunions could be as re- 
warding and glamorous as 1916's 
as this year, there would be one 
indred percent attendance! Ours 
as high-lighted by President Als- 
m's announcement at the Alumnae 
uncheon that the Margaret T. Phy- 
ian Fund had been established by 
I College. It will be a scholarship 
■>r summer study in French to be 
ven to an Agnes Scott student. 
What pride will be ours to share in 
Be growth of the Fund which so 
eservedly honors Margaret, as it 
ontinues in an ever-broadening sense 
er influence and the work to which 
he devoted so much of herself. It is 
splendid way to recognize a great 
aacher and former chairman of the 
'rench department. The members of 
;91 6 present at the Luncheon voted 
inanimously to start the Fund list 
vith an anniversary gift which 
ivelyn Goode Brock had sent. 

Because of the brief time we had 
on Alumnae Week End, it was most 
difficult to choose from the many 
pleasures offered us. The delight in 
.he beauty of the new Fine Arts 
Building — as well as that of other 
buildings "new" to us — was equalled 
only by the marvel and appreciation 
-of their facilities for times such as 
these. But along with the many im- 
pressive physical changes we saw on 
the campus, that remembered and 
cherished Agnes Scott atmosphere 
was never more evident than in the 
gracious hospitality extended by Dr. 
and Mrs. Alston at the tea in their 
home which they gave for our Class. 
And then the day ended with a 
truly elegant candlelight dinner given 
by Maryellen and Margaret in the 
delightful Newton home. For the 
twelve of us who were there it will 
be an evening long to be remembered 
for wonderful hospitality, delicious 
food beautifully served, happy con- 
versation and the sense of abiding 
and renewed friendships. 

ALUMNAE QUARTERLY / SUMMER 1966 




15 






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